Every Other Freckle
by dontleaveportland
Summary: "Either that's a new paint job, or this asshole takes car maintenance to a whole new religious level," Stiles thought. His anger boils over when the side view mirror appears to wink at him. "That is. Fucking. It." he says, and instead of walking off the crosswalk and around the car, Stiles steps up onto the car's hood. Or that time Stiles runs in the park.
1. The Disagreement

Let it be known that Stiles Stilinski loved few things more than running the expanse of Forest Preserve Park – Starburst Jellybeans were a close second, which brings him to his other close second: Chris Evans.

At the moment, he has neither Starburst Jellybeans or Chris Evans, so the Forest Preserve Park is his current love. The park's running path twists and turns with most of the forest's almost 3,000 acres, and includes scenery so beautiful that Stiles feels an almost daily temptation to create an Instagram account specifically for nature lovers. Plug in a little Jack Garratt and this is about as serene as Stiles can get, which is sometimes a necessity, like after the disaster that was breakfast this morning.

He doesn't know exactly what his father had promised the owner of the Depot Diner, Joyce, for attempting to help him sneak what appeared to be five pieces of bacon and a literal cup – A CUP – of maple syrup behind Stiles' back, but he does know that this Sunday morning was the last time Joyce would ever think twice about ignoring the "Food You Will NOT Serve Sheriff Stilinski" letter that Stiles sends out each month to food establishments throughout Beacon Hills and its surrounding counties.

After a very public shaming – and perhaps a few glares directed mostly at Joyce and the cup of syrup – Stiles had taken the keys to the Sheriff's squad car, "Don't even think about objecting. Technically you're off duty, and maybe the walk home will help you work off those five pieces of bacon you seem to think you need so badly. I'm going for a run until I'm calm enough to discuss why you're not allowed to eat pork, as well as the call I received from your doctor after your physical last week."

The confused mix of betrayal and guilt in his father's eyes had fueled Stile's legs through the first half of the park, but if he's honest with himself, he had begun to feel his agitation weaken in the last two miles. Coming upon the park's largest entrance, Stiles presses pause on the Alabama Shakes' "Don't Wanna Fight" and hits the crosswalk button.

Just as the walk sign appears, Stiles steps down from the curb only to be cut off by a black Chevrolet Camaro coming to a screeching halt. The Camaro is definitely several feet over the _end_ of the crosswalk, bringing Stile's agitation back to the surface. He attempts to get a look at the driver, but all he can make out is the blonde hair of the passenger that is decidedly _not_ in the passenger seat.

Stiles settles on assessing the condition of the car itself as he walks hesitantly forward, thinking to himself, _"Either that's a new paint job, or this asshole takes car maintenance to a whole new religious level."_ His anger boils over when the side view mirror appears to wink at him. "That is. Fucking. It." he says, and instead of walking off the crosswalk and around the car, Stiles steps up onto the car's hood.

As the spike in his track shoe makes a scratching noise about midway across the hood (leaving behind a trail of mud, and what Stiles hopes is permanent etching), he gets his first view of the driver, and it's mostly of red-tinted eyes. "Of. Fucking. Course." he says, lifting his left hand up to proudly display a sole middle finger, "You're supposed to stop before the crosswalk, _Alpha_," he throws out before hopping off the car.

Coming to the end of the crosswalk, Stiles glances back at the Camaro before pressing next song on his phone. He begins the final trek of the running path with AWOLNATION's "Hollow Moon (Bad Wolf)" and a new commitment to insert his "Food You Will NOT Serve Sheriff Stilinski" letter into the Beacon Hills Inquirer with a recent photo of his father included. He's pretty sure that the next county over reads the Sunday edition.

Let it be known that Derek Hale loved few things more than the submission of someone voicing his title as Alpha – the 2010 Chevrolet Camaro his family gave him for finishing his bachelor's degree a year early was a close second, which by the way was FUCKING SCRATCHED while he sat watching only two feet away!

By a _human_ no less! A _beautiful_ human that had decidedly _not_ submitted when referring to Derek as Alpha, in fact Derek's never heard the term Alpha uttered so much like a curse before in his life. His anger boils over when the human winks at him after crossing the street. _"That is. Fucking. It."_ he thinks.

"Kate, get out," he growls over his fangs, pushing the blonde out of his face, "Something else has piqued my interest."

Is piqued even the right word? Derek's never felt the need to make someone submit so strongly. He will hear the human defer to him as Alpha again, but it won't be uttered like something foul. Not ever again. After physically pushing the blonde out of his car, Derek makes a quick (and completely illegal) U-turn to make his way to the next intersection along the park's west side running path, planning to cut the human off.

When he finally does come upon the intersection, Derek notices Sheriff Stilinski's squad car parked nearby and tenses quickly. He vocally curses the human again for agitating him, refusing to admit that he might just be spooked that the Sheriff potentially witnessed his mostly illegal U-turn at the other end of the park. The last thing Derek wants to do is cross Sheriff Stilinski, that man is terrifying without any supernatural advantage.

Derek sighs in relief when he sees that the squad car is empty. He waits for the human to come running out of the tree line.


	2. Who Gives a Fuck About an Oxford Comma?

Stiles Stilinski's day went from Jackson-Whittemore-Gave-Me-Starburst-Jellybeans happy to excruciating with two words: "Hello, Gorgeous".

Stiles looked up from the Beacon Inquirer's crossword puzzle (hint twenty-seven across actually read, "Where S. Stilinski first made maple syrup feel shame", and he had been contemplating whether or not that was insulting for the last ten minutes) only to look into the face of the other current target of his ire: the crazy Alpha from Forest Preserve Park.

He now regrets the mental happy dance he had done in the car on the way to work when the Radio DJ Gods decided to play Vampire Weekend's "Oxford Comma" – he regrets it so much. Today was not meant to be a blessed day, and Stiles does give a fuck about an oxford comma.

"Hello, _Alpha_," Stiles bit out, putting extra sarcasm in the Alpha title, "Are you here to pick up your ankle monitor?"

At the Alpha's confused expression, Stiles rolled his eyes and added, "For your pending house arrest." Stiles almost laughed while he watched the metaphorical wheels turn behind the Alpha's eyes. _"Ahh, recognition. There's that gloomy glower,"_ he thought.

"Fortunately for me," the Alpha said, "Sheriff Stilinski believes that _I_ was the victim of foul play last weekend."

"What?!" Stiles squawked, "You almost ran me over! Then you stalked me across the park, threw yourself at me, and I'm pretty sure you said repeatedly 'Submit!' while trying to stick your snout in my neck. I had to wear a scarf for several days to cover up the stubble burn you left behind after that one sniff you managed to get in. It's July! I was on Cora Hale's 'Beacon's Least Fashionable' blog for three days straight."

_"That's odd,"_ Stiles thought. He had never seen both indignation and guilt fight for control of a face before. _"Oh, indignation wins."_ Stiles watched the Alpha's eyes turn red, _"Holy claws,"_ he thought.

The Alpha huffed loudly before saying, "You blew wolfsbane _into_ my face, then you used my own phone to call the police."

Before Stiles could respond, he was interrupted by the telephone on his work desk. "Beacon Hills Police Department, Stiles speaking." The Alpha began grinning manically, mouthing _"Stiles"_. Stiles definitely regrets that happy dance. Fuck. This. Day.

"Stiles! Why are you a hint for twenty-seven across in the newspaper?" and Stiles knew that voice: Lydia Martin. And she sounded annoyed.

"Excuse me, _sir_. I don't have time for your antics right now. Please call again, preferably never," he responded before hanging up the phone.

"That was definitely _not_ a male voice," the Alpha said, "I hope she's not your girlfriend. Though I wouldn't mind sharing you. At first."

"Listen, Alpha. I'm currently involved with all the ego I can handle," which was technically true. While Jackson wasn't Stiles boyfriend, Jackson played a domineering role in his life as vehement protector. Which reminded him: Aiden. Stiles wasn't sure Aiden counted as a boyfriend so much as a… every once in a while thing. Jackson despised Aiden, which only seemed to spur Aiden's interest in Stiles.

"Why don't I slide you these 'Consent is Sexy' pamphlets, and you can be on your way?" Stiles asked.

"Actually, I'm free all afternoon," the Alpha purred, "When is your lunch break? I'll take you somewhere nice. You can order _whatever_ you want. Maybe you can read those pamphlets to me."

_"Is he staring at my mouth?"_ Stiles thought. "What is that?" he asked, gesturing at the Alpha's face, "What are your eyebrows doing? You arched the larger one when you emphasized whatever in that rapetastic offer."

"Stiles, _baby_," the Alpha purred – and fuck. Fuck. Fuckity-fuck. Stiles forgot he mistakenly offered up his name to the Alpha. "I'm trying to be patient. I'm willing to forgive you for the wolfsbane, I just want to spend time together. Learn more about you."

"Mmhmm," Stiles said, "iTunes finally posted Made in Heights' 'Holla Mears' and I reached my chill factor for the day," and he raised his hand above his head to emphasize, "Week. Month. Year, really. You should try again in 2016." Stiles waited for a response, but received nothing but labored breathing from the Alpha.

"Hey, _asshole_! My eyes are down here. Have you been listening to Muse's 'Hysteria' on repeat? Your heart won't actually implode. If you haven't noticed, I'm at work – I have important public records to file, pull, and then re-file. Maybe you could try Sarah McLachlan? She's pretty good at helping people get over things."

"_Stiles_," the Alpha says, pushing up onto Stiles' desk, "I don't think you understand how this works. I'm interested in you. I want you. You're going to be _mine_." Stiles definitely observed the Alpha's eyes turn red at the end of that sentence.

"Can you put those away?" Stiles asked, gesturing at the claws digging into the top of his desk, "This is an antique desk, not some cheap veneer."

The Alpha began growling. "Look, I'm more interested in taking down the Snack Cakes industry than penis right now," Stiles said, "You don't even know me, do you know how crazy you sound?"

"Stiles!" came the voice of Stiles' father from the hallway behind him.

The Alpha immediately removed himself from Stiles' desk, "Is that Sheriff Stilinski?" he asked.

"Yeah," Stiles said. Narrowing his eyes at the Alpha, Stiles snapped his fingers, "Hey! Do you need a juice box? You look pale."

"Stiles," he heard his father say again, this time much closer, "What are you doing out here? I need your help opening an email attachment."

Stiles rolled his eyes for the second time today. "Yeah, I'm coming," he said.

"Hey, was that Derek?" his father asked.

Stiles turned around expecting to see the Alpha again, but the lobby was empty. The front entrance door slowly sliding closed.

"Yeah, I guess that was _Derek_," Stiles said. He's really hoping he never has a reason to use the name he now has for the Alpha.

"I hope you apologized for the wolfsbane," his father said, "Hey, do I have something called PowerPoint?"

_"Ugh. The struggle is strong today,"_ he thought, following his father back to the Sheriff's office.


	3. Comin' Up from Behind

Derek Hale's day went from Uncle-Peter-(Hereafter-Known-As-Asshole-Uncle-Peter)-Can't-Stop-Playing-Marcy-Playground excruciating to ridiculously perfect, and he owed all thanks to the four-way stop where Applewood met Fox Street: the _human_ sat stopped in the oncoming traffic line.

Although Derek's not quite sure that sitting was the correct verb – more like seizing… Derek's not really sure what the human was doing with his arms… or his torso… or his neck… He distinctly recalls wondering whether the human had been making finger guns or a complex signal for help.

Whatever. His human looked happy – and more importantly, Derek had found him!

After the disaster that was their first meeting in Forest Preserve Park, Derek had walked away with a bruised ego, a damaged car, a splotchy and swollen face (due to the wolfsbane the human had pulled out of his pocket and blown into Derek's face once he had gotten close, and who even carries that shit in their pockets?!), and zero clue who the human had been.

More bizarre, Derek had also received a lengthly and sincere apology from Sheriff Stilinski while waiting for Asshole Uncle Peter to pick Derek up from the hospital. He's still not figured that one out, and to be honest he's not sure the wolfsbane hadn't made him delusional. Derek is just thankful he hadn't puked on the Sheriff's shoes from fear.

But not the point – Derek had found _him_ this morning, and Derek once again made a questionable U-turn – flipping his middle finger up and throwing out a number of aggressive honks in the direction of "JULBLAKE" while pretending he hadn't cut the car off – in order to chase after the human.

Surprisingly, the human led Derek to the Beacon Hills Police Department. Derek decided to remain as subtle as possible, electing to park across the street and watch the human enter the building. Or at least that had been his plan, but as soon as the human had exited his 1976 Jeep CJ5 (which Derek was itching to replace, there was simply no amount of TLC that would repair that piece of shit to keep his human safe), a loud car horn sounded behind Derek.

Derek looked up in the rearview mirror only to see "JULBLAKE" parked behind him. The driver looked pissed, and she was definitely going to give Derek away if she kept pressing that damn horn!

Ordinarily, Derek would pounce on an opportunity to prove his Alpha prowess; however, his human proved to be difficult to maneuver, and Derek hadn't yet decided on a strategy to obtain what he wanted, so he sank down into his front seat and tried to be inconspicuous.

Derek heard the tell-tale slam of a car door, followed by a 'click-clack' of heels coming toward him.

"Hey, ASSHOLE!" JULBLAKE yelled through the driver's window.

Derek rolled the window a fourth of an inch down to whisper-yell back, "SHH! _Lady_, go the fuck away. I'm busy."

"GO AWAY?!" JULBLAKE yelled, "You almost slammed into the side of my car, flipped me off, then _you_ honked at _me_, and you want me to just go away?!"

Derek took a moment to collect himself – deep breath in, deep breath out. Derek turned back to the window and gave a shooing motion away from his car to JULBLAKE, which JULBLAKE returned with a blank stare.

Derek rolled his eyes and huffed, "Lady, _shoo_! I've got important stuff to do, beat it."

"I'm not going anywhere, you are a _terrible_ driver," JULBLAKE responded, "I should report you to the police for reckless driving."

Derek huffed again and forced JULBLAKE to back up by opening the car door.

Turning red eyes on JULBLAKE, Derek said, "I will tell you one last time, lady, leave me the fuck alone."

"Ugh," JULBLAKE said, "An Alpha. I should have known."

JULBLAKE looked even more determined to battle the argument out than before, and Derek began losing further patience with the issue. He had just found his human, and he would lose him again if he didn't move quickly.

Derek reached forward to grab the car keys hanging from JULBLAKE's right hand.

"Oops," Derek said, throwing the keys as far left as possible, "Better go get those. No need to stick around, I'll hand myself over to the police."

JULBLAKE squawked with indignation, but Derek had already crossed the street and was halfway across the parking lot by the time she began to move.

After Derek entered the building, he realized he wouldn't have to look far to find the human, because he sat at the front desk next to a title plaque that read "Office Clerk". Which shed some light on the Sheriff's apologetic approach to last Sunday's disaster, the Sheriff had been afraid of any legal implications involving his employee.

Derek hummed a note of appreciation looking upon the human. He was even more beautiful than Derek remembered, a soft and supple canvas for Derek to leave his mark. His hair was the perfect length for finger gripping, which sent a twist through Derek's stomach. A light dusting of freckles across his face and neck left Derek warm with curiosity regarding where other freckles might be found.

Derek almost lost composure when the human brought a coffee stirrer to his lips – not only because it brought so many ideas of what could be done with those lips, but also because of those fingers. Derek wanted to see those fingers at work.

"Hello, Gorgeous," he said, stepping forward.

* * *

While Derek's second encounter with the human hadn't gone entirely perfect, he walked away with zero wolfsbane induced injuries and a name for the human, so he was counting it as a win.

_"Stiles,"_ he thought, _"His name is Stiles."_

Derek may have left _Stiles_ sooner than he would have liked, but at least he had some formation of a plan started. He just need more information about Stiles.

Derek gave a slight growl as his thoughts darkened, _"Especially any information regarding the 'ego' he mentioned being currently involved with."_

Derek watched a black and silver 2012 Kawasaki ZX-14R pull into the parking lot, and he waited for the rumble to stop before he pulled his mobile phone out of his pocket to tap on the favorites list and initiate a call.

"Isaac," Derek said, "I've got an assignment for you. Come down to the police department. I want you to tail the man that drives the blue CJ5 Jeep. His name is Stiles. I want to know everything you can learn about him."

"Isaac!" Derek said, interrupting his beta's immediate grumbling, "I said _DO IT_!"

Derek ended the call when he reached his car, which in addition to the large scratch that Stiles had left on the hood, now also carried "SHIT DRIVER" scratched into the car's side.

_"Fuck. This. Day."_ he thought sliding into the car.

* * *

Aiden Carver is not a man that likes to give too much attention to the environment around him. Unless it serves a specific purpose to him, it's usually a gray blur of sound and motion that he happily ignores.

However, when Aiden heard the Alpha – and that's what the man was, Aiden could see it in the way the man walked confidently across the lot – say into his phone, "I want you to tail the man that drives the blue CJ5 Jeep. His name is Stiles," Aiden was fully aware of his surrounding environment.

A growl slipped forward from the fangs pushing through Aiden's mouth, and he felt his claws unsheathe. Whatever this Alpha wanted with Stiles would not bode well for Aiden, he just knew it.

Aiden might feel better if Stiles had let him claim Stiles officially as his, but the human remained stubborn in that regard. Though evidently, Aiden was running out of options and time.

_"He may not think we're ready," _Aiden thought,_ "but that's about to change. He is mine. He will stay mine."_


	4. Ordinary Life

Stiles Stilinski was pretty much over the day – not only had Derek (the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad – and _very hands_y – Alpha werewolf) visited Stiles at his workplace, Stiles had spent the better part of the morning attempting to teach his father how to use Powerpoint (a redundant effort since his father had only just mastered the right click and seemed to pale at the suggestion of moving text or slide transitions), and then spent his lunch break arguing with Aiden (who, _surprise_!, was back in town unannounced and seemed to think Stiles was seeing another Alpha).

Stiles wasn't even really seeing Aiden, but Stiles hadn't thought it was wise to point that out while the Alpha had pouted from his motorcycle in the parking lot.

The Alpha had been all over him, Stiles had had to threaten and wrestle his way out of Aiden's grip in order to return to the office – something Stiles hadn't always been opposed to, but he wasn't exactly sure that he wanted to continue whatever it was that they had been doing for the last year.

_"Fucking Alphas,"_ Stiles thought, _"Where's the mountain ash when you need it?"_

The rest of the afternoon had been an aggravating blur, and Stiles wanted nothing more than to make dinner, have a long shower, and sink into his pajamas, calling an end to the day.

So of course that was when Lydia Martin decided to call him, halfway home and while belting out, "If your lips are moving, if your lips are moving, then you're lyin', lyin', lyin', babe."

"Hello, Lydia!" Stiles said, "It is such a pleasure to hear from you!"

"Cut the crap, Stiles," Lydia said, "You called me a '_sir_', and then you hung up on me. Don't think I've forgotten this morning."

"Pish," Stiles said, "I would never."

"Save it Stilinski," Lydia said, "You were avoiding someone or something. You can tell me now, or you can tell me later, but you will tell me."

"Lydia, do you remember that summer in high school when you called me crying, and you insisted that I drop everything to pick you up from the Walgreens parking lot at 1:00am?" Stiles asked.

"Uh…" Lydia said, "Nope. I don't seem to recall that happening."

"I know who lived in that neighborhood, Lydia," Stiles said, "You could have at least walked five or ten miles to avoid me putting the pieces together. You totally hooked up with Greenberg."

"Nope," Lydia said, "Not how I remember that. I think I just saw someone that needed my car more than me, so I let them take it. That explains why I was at a Walgreens asking for a ride. Don't try to deflect, is this about Jackson's giant gay crush on you?"

"Jackson isn't gay, Lydia" Stiles said.

"No, but he's gay for you," Lydia said, "I say you keep the hunky Alpha twin with the motorcycle."

"I'm sorry, can only people that _haven't_ touched tongues with Greenberg provide life advice to me right now?" Stiles asked, "Uh, huh, that's what I thought."

"Stiles–" Lydia began.

"Lykourgos, _sir_," Stiles said, "Can you not? Thank you. Oh, look, I'm home! I've got to go now, I'll call you later, in a day, or in like a week or two, maybe someday. Okay, bye!"

* * *

Isaac Lahey was pretty much over the day – not only had Derek (his terrible, horrible, no good, very bad Alpha) insisted that Isaac stake out this _Stiles_ for the day, some asshole on a motorcycle had almost run him over when he walked into the Beacon Hills Police Department's parking lot.

The parking lot that Isaac had spent the rest of the day waiting in until _finally_ someone walked up to and started the blue Jeep Isaac had been instructed to watch over.

_"Huh, human,"_ Isaac thought.

On foot, Isaac followed Stiles to a modest two-story house on Pine Street. Both the lawn and house exterior looked well kept.

_"He doesn't look scary,"_ Isaac thought, _"This can't be a big threat. Why am I tagging this guy?"_

Isaac headed for the back of the house, shrinking behind a large row of shrubs planted beneath what appeared to be the kitchen windows.

* * *

Turning to Kristen Barry to help save the day, Stiles hit play on "Ordinary Life" to help mellow his mood in the kitchen.

_"Lasagna is in the oven,"_ Stiles thought, running through the dinner checklist _"Pine nuts are toasting on the stovetop for the salad, tomatoes are sliced. That leaves… the tea, parmesan to grate, and the spinach for the salad."_

After putting the kettle on the stove, Stiles turned to the kitchen island and reached for the mezzaluna.

If his father admitted to eating the two-thirds missing from the donut Stiles saw hiding out in the Sheriff's office trash bin, Stiles might mention that there was some coffee ice cream hidden in the freezer. But Stiles would be overseeing the serving size.

* * *

Isaac felt his phone begin to vibrate in his pocket.

"Hello?" Isaac whispered.

Isaac turned to ensure Stiles hadn't heard the phone somehow, listening to his Alpha respond. "I'm at Stiles', _Alpha_," Isaac said, making the title a little too saccharine, "Like you asked me to be, remember? Could you maybe tell me why I am here?"

"No?" Isaac asked, "What's he doing? You want me to tell you what he's doing?"

Isaac rolled his eyes. _"I'm not paid enough for this,"_ Isaac thought.

"Well, he's currently in the process of making dinner. And it smells amazing, seriously, we should hire a cook," Isaac said. "He made iced tea without that clunky machine you hate so much, like he did it with just a kettle and a tea bag. I'm pretty sure he put some ginger and mint in there, too, it smells awesome. Why don't you make better tea? Do you think he's a witch? Is this like magic or some shit? He's like Martha Fucking Stewart."

"Oh, wait," Isaac said, "He's putting his fancy wheel-knife-thingumajig that cuts lettuce into pretty pieces down. Should we have one of those? Is that important? It looks important. Hold on, he's leaving the kitchen. I think he's going upstairs."

"Derek," Isaac continued, "I hear the shower starting upstairs. You should get over here, asap. There is some mellow mood music, the kitchen is decked out in some twinkle string lights, it is chill as fuck! I can grab the lasagna sitting on the counter for our dinner if you want."

Isaac waited for a response confirming the thieving of dinner, but he never got one.

"Are you even listening to me?" Isaac asked, "Hello? Alpha! Sometimes I don't think you listen to me. I said sometimes I don't think you listen to me–I said _sometimes_ I don't think you listen–I said, sometimes I don't think you _listen_–Oh," Isaac said, narrowing his eyes, "I see what you did there."

Isaac heard footsteps approaching from somewhere nearby.

"Shh!" Isaac whispered, cutting the Alpha off from whatever response was being given, "Someone else is here."

Moving as quietly as possible, Isaac crawled around the side of the house, only to find the asshole that had almost run him over in the police department parking lot earlier in the day.

"There's another Alpha here," Isaac whispered, "He's trying to get in the front door, but it's locked. Now he's using a tree to get to one of the upstairs windows."

"Idiot," Isaac said, once the Alpha disappeared into the house, "The kitchen windows are open. Should I have told him that? No? Okay, no. Yeah, yeah, I'll go see what's happening. Should I warn Martha? Will Martha be okay?"


	5. Bedroom Dancing

Stiles Stilinski lay face down in bed, trying to forget the previous events of the night – wherein Stiles threw Aiden Carver and Jackson Whittemore out of his house.

_"Fucking werewolves,"_ Stiles thought.

* * *

Stiles stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around himself. He stopped at the sink to assess himself in the mirror.

Thankfully running in Forest Preserve Park each morning – or every other morning depending on how much time Stiles had (or how lazy he felt…) – kept him in good health, with a slightly tanned complexion.

Still, he had a couple of pores that needed some attention when he had time, his hair was in desperate need of a trim, and two dark circles sat underneath his eyes.

_"What is that sound?"_ Stiles thought, turning away from the mirror.

Stiles opened the bathroom door, hearing the booming bass that had caught his attention more clearly.

_Ass fat, yeah I know. You just got cash? Blow sum mo'._

_"Nicki is definitely not in my playlist,"_ Stiles thought, _"My father would have a heart attack."_

Stiles stepped into his bedroom, where the music appeared to be coming from. A quick glance told Stiles that the room was empty, so he moved closer to his computer to stop the music.

Just as he hit the spacebar to pause the music, two arms wrapped around Stiles's torso.

"Baby," Aiden said, "Don't stop the fun, it's just getting started."

Stiles felt Aiden move in to sniff at his neck. Stiles pushed against Aiden with his back, turning around to see Aiden face to face.

"Aiden," Stiles said, "What are you doing here?"

"I came to see you, baby," Aiden said.

Aiden moved in closer to Stiles's neck, leaving small kisses in his wake.

Stiles felt Aiden's right arm move behind Stiles's back, followed by the sound of a key being pressed on the computer's keyboard.

_Feeling myself, I'm feeling myself, I'm feeling my, feeling myself. I'm feeling myself, I'm feeling my, feeling my, feeling myself._

"Don't you mean you came to see if I was with some other Alpha?" Stiles asked.

"Baby," Aiden said, moving up to Stiles's left ear, "I'm sorry I made us fight this morning. I was being stupid. Let me make it up to you."

Stiles felt Aiden's hands grasp his ass.

"Whoa, Alpha" Stiles said, moving his hands to push against Aiden's chest.

"I think we have some things that we need to discuss before we do anything like you're trying to do," Stiles said.

Aiden moved back with an exasperated sigh, clearly irritated.

"Baby," Aiden said, "We're ready. I promise."

"Aiden, I haven't seen you in _months_," Stiles said, "I don't even know if you're seeing other people. I don't even know if we're seeing each other. What am I to you? You say you want me, but there's never any follow through. Where have you even been?"

Aiden smirked down at Stiles, moving a red gaze up and down Stiles's body.

"Trust me, Stiles," Aiden said, "You're the only one I want to see right now."

"Nice deflection," Stiles said, "Aiden, I'm serious, we have some real shit to figure out."

Aiden scrunched his eyebrows in confusion.

"Like what?" Aide asked.

"Like," Stiles said, pushing Aiden to sit down on the corner of the bed, sitting down next to him, "How you and my father don't get along at all."

Aiden rolled his eyes.

"I'm serious, Aiden!" Stiles said, "He's been pushing Parrish onto me since the first week he met you. Last week, I overheard him calling Deaton to discuss the benefits of mountain ash."

Aiden let out a growl at the mention of Parrish's name.

"I like this spot," Aiden said, pulling Stiles into his lap, "You always have the best ideas."

"Aiden!" Stiles said, "Knock it off. If you really want a relationship with me, how are you going to repair things with my father?"

"Damn, baby," Aiden said, "Why can't we just relax? Chill? Why do you always have to be so serious?"

"I'm trying to tell you why, Aiden!" Stiles said, "I can't do this – whatever this is – anymore, unless we figure some things out. I'm putting my terms out there, you either like them or you don't. It's pretty simple."

"Terms?" Aiden asked.

"Yeah, terms. Things I want in a relationship, things you want in a relationship," Stiles said.

"So, you get terms, but I _also_ get terms?" Aiden asked, grinning a little too widely.

"Uh… Yeah," Stiles said, "Generally that's how this works."

"Okay," Aiden said, "My first term is that you lose this towel. No more towels."

"Aiden!" Stiles said, trying to hold onto the towel the Alpha pulled on, "That's not a relationship term."

"Look," Stiles said, "I only just finished my first year of college last spring."

"I know, duh," Aiden said, "That's how I met you, you were so cute in the front row with your little book bag."

"Yeah, yeah," Stiles said, "Real Alphas don't carry books, and I know the only reason you gave me any attention at all was so that I would help you study for the midterm. You thought you'd seduce me for an 'A'."

"Yeah," Aiden said, grinning, "But then I saw your ass in those running shorts you wear."

_"Ugh,"_ Stiles thought, _"This is going nowhere."_

"Aiden," Stiles said, "I'm not sure we're right for each other."

Aiden growled and grabbed more tightly onto Stiles.

"Is this about that Alpha?" Aiden asked, fighting to get the words out over his fangs.

"What Alpha?!" Stiles asked, "You're crazy, do you know that? I'm literally seeing no one, including you, you neanderthal."

"We're seeing each other!" Aiden said.

"Yeah, right now," Stiles said, "But what about when my father's around? Or when Jackson is around? Or in a week?"

Aiden scowled.

"Why do you even hang out with that _Beta_?" Aiden asked.

"Because he's my friend, my _best_ friend," Stiles said, "And he's important to me, like my father, two men you seem to be incapable of getting along with."

Aiden's scowl softened.

"Baby," Aiden said, "I know you're stressed out right now, but we'll figure it out. I think you just need to relax. And I know just how to help you do that."

"Aiden," Stiles said, pushing against the Alpha again, "For the last time, I _am not_ sleeping with you."

"Damn, baby" Aiden said, "Why you gotta be so frigid?"

"Aiden!" Stiles said, "We haven't even really been on a date, you just find me when you want to rub up against me. I have no clue if you're engaging in sexual activity with other people, I would be an idiot to rush things with you."

"Stiles," Aiden said, "I'm not seeing anybody else. I'm probably the only fucking Alpha in North America that's spent the last year being blue-balled by an infuriating _human_."

"I don't know how to explain it," Aiden said, "You drive me wild. Sometimes it's _too_ much how much I want you."

"Okay…" Stiles said, "That's… Really surprising. You've never admitted anything like that before. Why don't we ever talk about us?"

"Because I'd rather be doing stuff between us," Aiden said, grinning widely.

Stiles snorted and pushed the Alpha off the bed.

"Hey," Aiden said, "Are these your pajamas?"

"I bet your ass looks great in these little pajama shorts. This little baseball jersey top is cute, too" Aiden said, "Is this monogrammed?"

Stiles rolled his eyes.

"They're so soft," Aiden said, "I'm usually not a fan of you in clothing. But I could accept you wearing these in my kitchen."

Stiles rolled his eyes harder.

"You'll have to replace the top soon though," Aiden said, matter-of-factly.

"Why's that, _Alpha_?" Stiles said, putting some extra sarcasm into the title.

"Once we're mated," Aiden said, "The S for your last name won't make any sense."

"Excuse me?!" Stiles asked.

Both turned their heads though, when they heard the front door crash open.

"STILES!" Jackson yelled.

_"Ugh,"_ Stiles thought, _"Why me?"_

* * *

"STILES!" Jackson said, "STILES! Where are you?!"

"Stiles!" Jackson yelled again, "I know this bullshit music isn't yours. Where is he? AIDEN!"

Stiles heard two separate roars as Jackson came into view of the bedroom door.

"STOP!" Stiles said, stepping in between the Alpha and Beta attempting to rush each other.

"Stiles," Jackson said, "Get away from him. This asshole is no good for you."

"You would think that, wouldn't you, _Beta_?" Aiden said, "Are you upset I've got what you can't have?"

"Aiden, shut up!" Stiles said.

"He's good, too," Aiden smirked, "The best I've ever had. Takes it so well, no gag reflex either."

Jackson roared again.

"I'll let his father know you said so," Jackson said.

"You're such a little bitch," Aiden said, "You might have his daddy's approval, but it's not your name he's screaming when we're in bed together."

"Why would Stiles waste his time with a loser like you?" Jackson asked, "You might be here for now, but I'll always be here."

"Jackson–" Stiles started.

"This doesn't concern you, Stiles," Jackson said, "You don't know the real him. You're confused."

"Yeah, Stiles," Aiden said, "Let us handle this. Why don't we finish this for good, _Beta_? Winner gets Stiles."

"Deal!" Jackson said.

"ENOUGH!" Stiles said, "Get out!"

"What?!" both werewolves asked.

"I said get out!" Stiles said, "I've had it with the two of you. Neither one of you respects me, neither one of you is considering what I want, so get out."

Jackson looked pained. Aiden looked confused.

"Stiles–" both attempted.

"I've got a sack of powdered wolfsbane and another of mountain ash, but I don't seem to remember which is which," Stiles said, "Want to find out?"

Which, lie, Stiles totally knew which was which, he just wanted both werewolves out of his house immediately.

"No?" Stiles asked, "Then move! Front door now! Don't call me, don't come to my office, and don't _accidentally_ bump into me at the grocery store. If I want to speak to you, I'll find you."

"Stiles–" Jackson said.

Stiles reached for the sack of mountain ash.

"I'm going!" Aiden said, bumping Jackson's shoulder as he walked passed him to the stairwell.

Jackson had tears in his eyes.

"Stiles–" Jackson said.

"Jackson," Stiles said, "Just go."

Jackson took a painfully long time to leave the bedroom, and finally, the house.

"Whoa, Derek!" Isaac said, whispering with a kind of awe in his voice.

Fighting back hysterical laughter, Isaac said, "Martha just served an Alpha and a Beta their asses. At the same time."

"Is this why I'm tagging Martha?" Isaac asked, "Are you trying to make him my new mommy? Oh! If you woo him properly, will he be making my food?"

"Alpha, I am so on board!" Isaac said, "He looks so soft, too, I bet he is great for cuddles. He could hug all my nightmares away, and I bet it comes with homemade cookies, too."

"It doesn't sound like he's really that easy, though" Isaac said, "Are you sure you can do this? I mean, you kind of like them sleazy. Remember Kate?"

"Okay, okay!" Isaac said, "I'm sorry. You're not shallow, you clearly have some refined taste, you picked Martha. I'm just saying it's really going to take some commitment. That Alpha was really hands on, and Martha was having none of it. You're going to need to bring your 'A' game."

"Hey!" Isaac said, "What about a cookbook? It's clearly an interest for him, and you could give him a fun one, like a cupcake one – that way maybe I could get some cupcakes out of this."

"Yeah, yeah, okay, okay," Isaac said, "I'm coming home. We'll figure something out. Are you sure you don't want me to grab the lasagna before I leave? If I come home to another frozen pizza, I am going to scream. You're already making me share space with Asshole Uncle Peter."

Stiles just managed to collect himself and get dinner on the table before his father arrived home from work. Dinner had been pretty quiet, with his father looking at him with concern.

"Is something wrong, son?" the Sheriff had asked, "I saw Aiden's motorcycle parked outside the office this afternoon."

"I'm not really up for talking about it, dad," Stiles had said, "Don't press, and I'll forget about the mostly eaten donut remains in your office trash bin this afternoon."

The confused mixture of concern and guilt warring across his father's face was enough to bring a small smile to Stiles's face.

A soft knock sounded on Stiles's bedroom door.

"Dad," Stiles said, "I told you, I'm fine. I just want some sleep. Tomorrow's another day and all that."

Stiles heard the door open.

"Stiles?" Jackson asked.

"Go away, Jackson," Stiles said, "I'm not done no longer speaking to you."

"You're speaking to me now," Jackson said, followed by a chuckle.

Stiles heard Jackson shuffle closer.

"Come on, Stiles," Jackson said, "You always talk to me. About _everything_. Don't shut me out just because I was stupid."

Stiles felt the bed shift where Jackson appeared to be climbing up.

"Your dad let me in," Jackson said, "Actually he called me. He's worried about you."

Stiles remained silent, pushing his head further down.

Stiles felt the weight of Jackson's body press against his back.

"Stiles," Jackson said, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to overstep. You're not a prize that can be won."

Stiles snorted.

"Okay, I _did_ mean to overstep," Jackson said, "But that asshole just makes me so angry. It's like I'm seeing red or something."

"What if that asshole means a lot to me?" Stiles asked.

Stiles felt Jackson sigh against the back of his neck.

"Then I'll figure it out," Jackson said, "I'll find a way to support you. I just don't trust him, Stiles, did you know that–"

"Jackson," Stiles said, "You're doing it again."

"You're right," Jackson said, "And I'm sorry. Again."

"Are we okay?" Jackson asked, placing his chin where Stiles's neck and shoulder met.

"We will be," Stiles said, "But you're still an asshole."

"Well as you say, 'Compliment accepted'," Jackson said, "Are these new pajamas? They're so soft."

"You owe me Starburst Jellybeans," Stiles said.

Jackson practically purred as he snuggled into Stiles's back.

Stiles gave into the feeling of sleep just as Jackson's arms wrapped around him.


	6. Rollin' On

Isaac Lahey was having the most frustrating week _ever_, and Isaac owed it all to one frustrating Alpha werewolf: Derek Hale.

Isaac sat in the passenger seat of the Alpha's beloved 2010 Chevrolet Camaro, which was parked outside Roots and Shoots, the local green grocer that Stiles preferred for grocery needs.

"Tell me how it all happened again, this time in more detail," Derek said.

"Alpha!" Isaac said, "You were on the phone with me, you mostly heard everything I witnessed. Big Stupid Asshole Alpha got _handsy_ with Little Martha, Little Martha smacked Big Stupid Asshole Alpha upside the head, Big Stupid Asshole Alpha proposed mate-rimony to Little Martha, then Big Stupid Less-Asshole Beta interrupted, and shit hit the fan. Little Martha put the law down, and I left _without_ the lasagna, per your request."

"The Alpha proposed?!" Derek asked.

Isaac rolled his eyes.

_"There is no hope,"_ Isaac thought, _"I am never going to taste good food at home."_

"Alpha, Martha said – and I cannot reiterate enough – a big fat, resounding: 'No'," Isaac said.

Derek let loose a growl, still uncomfortable with how much distance was still between him and his ultimate goal.

"How do you know this is going to work?" Derek asked, looking out the window at Roots and Shoots.

"Because, he told Big Stupid Asshole Alpha and Big Stupid Less-Asshole Beta not to meet him here, he never said _you_ couldn't meet him here," Isaac said with a smug smirk.

"Yeah, well," Derek said, "How do you even know he's going to show up today?"

"Oh, he'll show up," Isaac said, grinning widely.

"Stop that," Derek said, "That's your creepy smile, you're freaking me out."

Isaac cackled loudly, moving away from Derek's attempt to slap his head.

"What do you know that I don't know?" Derek asked.

"Alpha, some things are better left unknown," Isaac said.

Derek growled loudly.

"Tell me what you're not telling me," Derek said, eyes crimson and voice booming with Alpha will.

"Okay, okay!" Isaac said, hands lifted up in a placating manner, "I may have… well kind of… sort of… _ensured_ that Martha would be here today."

Derek quirked an eyebrow.

Isaac grinned widely again.

"He's completely out of bananas, fresh eggs, grapes, greek yogurt, and orange juice." Isaac said proudly.

"Oh!" Isaac added, "And oatmeal."

"Uh huh," Derek said, unconvinced, "And how do _you_ know that, Isaac?"

"Well, remember that nice breakfast Asshole Uncle Peter made for us two days ago?" Isaac asked, "The one I won out of a bet with him?"

"Yes…" Derek said, unsure where this conversation was going.

"Well we didn't have any of that stuff, and do you really think Asshole Uncle Peter went _shopping_?!" Isaac asked, almost laughing at the combination of Asshole Uncle Peter and a shopping cart.

"You stole food from Stiles?!" Derek asked.

"I borrowed!" Isaac said, "You'll replace it all when you've secured him as my new Papa. Besides, I had to get him to the grocery store! Martha keeps a well stocked pantry, did you know he keeps _fresh_ pineapple on hand? Not a can in sight, I looked."

Derek glared across the Camaro at Isaac.

"You two were never going to have a _normal_ meet and greet! You know, if this is how you're going to repay my help, I might as well not even try!" Isaac said, turning to look out the window.

Derek gave a deep sigh.

"Okay," Derek said, "_But_ if this doesn't work, I will kill you. Painfully. And stop entering his house – he doesn't even know who you are!"

Isaac rolled his eyes.

"Alpha, you are so dramatic, it's his fault for leaving the kitchen windows unlocked. Besides I left a note on his fridge telling him what he's missing," Isaac said, "Oh! There he is!"

Isaac began pointing wildly outside the window. Sure enough, two lanes over, Stiles could be seen exiting his parked Jeep.

Derek took a deep breath.

_"I can do this,"_ Derek thought.

"You can do this, Alpha," Isaac said, patting Derek on the shoulder.

"Isaac?" Derek asked.

"Yes, Alpha?" Isaac asked.

"Shut up," Derek said.

"On it, Alpha," Isaac said, miming locking his mouth and throwing away the key.

"So, how does this work?" Derek asked, "I just bump my cart into his?"

Isaac sat silent, looking innocently at Derek.

"Isaac!" Derek said, "Give me some advice here!"

Isaac pointed at his mouth and repeated the locking motion, shrugging his shoulders.

Derek punched the wheel of his car, growled loudly, and exited the Camaro, slamming the door shut.

Isaac leaned over the console to the driver's open window.

"Alpha!" Isaac said, "Don't bump too hard, remember: humans are fragile! Also, when this is over, you are _so_ taking me to Pita Pan to reward me for a job well done. I want the pita! All the pita!"

Derek lifted his left hand to proudly display a sole middle finger at Isaac.

* * *

Stiles Stilinski was having the most frustrating week _ever_, and Stiles owed it all to two frustrating werewolves: Aiden Carver and Jackson Whittemore. Three if you count Creepy Derek, which Stiles did.

_"I could have sworn I just bought fresh eggs,"_ Stiles thought, _"And I know that greek yogurt was full on Monday."_

Stiles squinted to read the grocery shopping list he had grabbed from the refrigerator door that morning.

"Need more… OJ… Less… Kale?… Pick up… Lucky Charmz plz," Stiles read aloud.

_"Nice try, old man,"_ Stiles thought, _"His handwriting has really become shit, and it will be a cold day in Hell when I buy him sugared cereal."_

Stiles was halfway through his own mental shopping list when he reached the fresh fruit section. Just as he reached out for a cluster of bananas, what appeared to be a kiwi came flying at his head.

"What the hell?" Stiles asked, narrowly dodging the offending fruit.

Stiles turned around to survey the area, but saw no one else near the fruit section.

Stiles turned back to the bananas, looking for a cluster that was unbruised and slightly green. Just when he had a cluster in hand, Stiles heard the tell-tale thumping of the melon stand falling to the floor.

Turning back around, Stiles saw Creepy Derek looking wild, reaching erratically for the honeydew rolling on the floor.

Stiles narrowed his eyes at the Alpha.

"Need some help there?" Stiles asked.

"Ha, ha," Derek laughed, looking embarrassed, "Uh… No, no, I've got it."

"Right…" Stiles said, "Well, I'll just leave you to it then."

Stiles turned to leave, but spotted a young man near the dairy keeled over from laughter, blond curls shaking with each chuckle.

Stiles narrowed his eyes at the blond, who was clearly finding too much joy in Creepy Derek's misfortune.

Stiles sighed and turned back around to help the Alpha.

"You're missing some," Stiles said as he stepped around the Alpha to grab the honeydew that had rolled beneath the cart holding the oranges.

The Alpha made a throat clearing sound.

"Uh… Thank you, Stiles," the Alpha said, "You know what they say about… This… Kind of rounded… fruit."

Creepy Derek looked around the area at the last part of his sentence, as if to confirm he was indeed in the fruit section holding a fruit.

"Uh, not really, no," Stiles said, returning to his cart and pushing forward.

"Uh, it's not important," the Alpha said, following behind Stiles, "Look, Stiles, I think we got off on the wrong foot earlier."

"You mean before you almost ran me over, after you assaulted my neck, or when you interrupted my work hours to sexually harass me?" Stiles asked.

"Okay, I made a couple of mistakes," the Alpha said, "But it was only because you make me really… nervous."

Stiles stopped his cart, turning to give an assessing gaze up and down the Alpha.

"_I_," Stiles said, "Make _you_ nervous?"

"Uh… Very?" Derek said questioningly.

"Why is that, _Derek_?" Stiles asked.

"I don't think you want me to answer that," Derek said, face set in a firm stance.

Stiles rolled his eyes, turning to keep moving forward.

"No wait, Stiles!" Derek said, "I just mean you don't seem to like my forward approach."

"_Forward_?" Stiles asked, "Try borderline stalker, _Derek_! We don't even know each other, and somehow you've managed to find me twice since our first meeting. Are you really here to shop, or did you follow me here?"

"Now wait a minute," Derek said, voice becoming thick with Alpha authority.

"Derek!" the blond that had been laughing at the Alpha earlier said, stepping between him and Stiles.

"I thought I asked you to get us some Count Chocula, _Alpha_?" the blond asked, "Oh, hello there! I'm Isaac, I'm a member of Alpha Derek's pack. He's a _great_ Alpha, the best I've ever had really!"

"Isaac," Creepy Derek whispered, "I'm the only Alpha you've ever had."

"Shut up!" Isaac whispered back to Creepy Derek, smiling brightly at Stiles.

"You must be the human Alpha Derek has been meaning to apologize to, for seemingly assaulting you in the park – he thought you were a rogue werewolf. We got some bad intel from a neighboring pack, you know how these things go. One minute you're running for fun in the park, the next you're running for your life in the park!" Isaac said laughing, offering a hand to shake with Stiles.

"_He_" Stiles said, gesturing disbelievingly at Creepy Derek, "Thought _I_ was a rogue werewolf?"

"Well I never said he was perfect," Isaac said, "He's a new Alpha after all, he's like Alpha-Lite right now. Little training wheels hold up his red Alpha eyes."

Creepy Derek growled loudly behind Isaac.

"Uh… I mean," Isaac said, stepping next to the Alpha, "He's still a burly, powerful, and strong Alpha though. No training wheels on these guns, am I right?"

Isaac attempted to lift the Alpha's left arm up toward Stiles.

"Don't I know you from somewhere – _Isaac_, was it?" Stiles asked, eyes narrowed.

"Nope!" Isaac said quickly, "Not unless you volunteer a lot during your weekends. Alpha Derek and I are always busy on the weekends giving our time to the needy, the less fortunate and such."

Stiles couldn't help but chuckle at the way Derek's eyes seemed to grow three times in size in response to Isaac's claims.

"Maybe that's it," Stiles said, "I volunteer a lot around town, I'm actually helping with a food outreach program beginning next month, Beacon Hunger Relief, maybe you were considering donating funding or time?"

Isaac slammed his elbow into the Alpha's ribcage.

"Uh, yes!" Derek said, "Yes, we were planning on that. Wouldn't miss it, we do that every year."

"Huh," Stiles said, "Maybe I was wrong about you, _Alpha_, you might not be a total tool, and we might actually have something in common."

Isaac pushed the Alpha closer to Stiles.

"Yeah, I think we might have a lot in common, it would be nice if I could prove that to you sometime soon," Derek said.

"Well, I don't know about that in terms of a romantic possibility, _Alpha_, but I could always use a new friend," Stiles said.

"Friends are good," Derek said as he nodded his head, "Very good. I could be your friend."

Before Stiles could respond, the pair were interrupted by a loud stomach growl coming from the right.

Stiles turned to see Isaac peering into Stiles's shopping cart.

"Sorry, hunger pains. I must be volunteering too hard this week," Isaac said, grinning sheepishly.

"Whoa!" Isaac said, reaching into Stiles's shopping cart, "Is that a pomegranate? Like a real one? Asshole Uncle Peter said those were a myth, Alpha look!"

The Alpha reached forward to grab ahold of Isaac.

"That's our cue to go," Alpha Derek said, "Nice seeing you, _friend_."

"Yeah, it actually was kind of nice to see you for the first time ever, _Alpha_ Derek," Stiles said.

Alpha Derek flashed a bright white smile Stiles's way.

"Until next time," the Alpha said, turning to leave the aisle.

Stiles chuckled as he watched the odd pair walk away.

"It's pita time, right, Alpha?" Isaac asked.

_"Strange, definitely strange,"_ Stiles thought.

Stiles felt his mobile phone vibrate from his pocket, and he pulled it out to see an incoming call from his father.

"Stiles!" Sheriff Stilinski yelled.

"Well hello, father, lovely to hear from you, too. How are you on this fine Thursday?" Stiles asked.

"Cut the crap, Stiles," his father said, "Where are my Firecracker popsicles?"

"Gee," Stiles said, "Are those the god-awful sugar bombs masquerading as patriotism in red, white, and blue? If so, hopefully they're in the trash where they belong."

"Damn it, Stiles! I hid them behind your overflowing frozen vegetable shelf in the pantry freezer – it was supposed to take _years_ for you to find them!" his father said.

"Well, it serves you right that you've misplaced them then," Stiles said.

"Stiles! They're patriotic, you can't throw something patriotic away!" his father said.

"Dad, I promise, I didn't touch them. Look again, but if you find them, you better enjoy them while you can, because they're gone once I get home. In fact, I think it's time I defrost the pantry freezer, I sure hope you're not hiding anything else in there." Stiles said.

His father gave a short gasp, followed by the clicking sound indicating the call had been ended.

_"Well, at least sorting through the freezer will give him some exercise,"_ Stiles thought, _"Maybe I should pick up some Grape-Nuts just for his special Lucky Charms request, that'll teach him for forgetting that cereal is only good for fiber."_

Stiles bopped his head along with the store's music on his way to the checkout lane.


	7. Bang Dem Sticks

Derek Hale's Sunday afternoon began with complete and utter confusion. He sat in the kitchen of the house he shared with Isaac – and occasionally Asshole Uncle Peter – perched on a stool near the kitchen's backdoor and eating a bowl of Count Chocula.

Derek scowled down at the clipboard currently blocking his view of his breakfast.

"Isaac," Derek said, "What is this?"

Isaac took a moment to look up at the ceiling. Derek is pretty sure he heard the Beta whisper something along the lines of, _"Why me, Lord?"_

"Derek!" Isaac said, clearly exasperated, "You told Stiles that you were a volunteer _champion_ – how are you going to prove that to him if you're not actually spending any of your time volunteering?"

Derek stared blankly back at Isaac.

"_You_ told Stiles that I'm a volunteer champion," Derek said.

"Semantics," Isaac said, waving his hand in avoidance, "Come on Alpha, do you want Martha to be my new Papa or not?"

Derek looked back down at the clipboard.

"Prison Inmate PenPal .com," Derek read from the top of the printed form.

Derek looked back up at Isaac with an arched eyebrow.

Isaac beamed back at Derek.

"Alpha, prisoners need love, too," Isaac said, "Besides, I don't see you volunteering your hours to run the book mobile for Beacon's children."

Derek grabbed ahold of the clipboard and tossed it out the open backdoor.

"No," Derek said, "Find something else."

Isaac scrambled toward the door to collect the clipboard.

"Damn it, Derek!" Isaac yelled, "Can I live?! I just want one clipboard to survive a week with you."

Derek smiled into his bowl of Count Chocula. His current record was thirty-seven clipboards. Nothing beat starting a Sunday off with an immediate sense of accomplishment.

* * *

"Okay, Alpha," Isaac said, "You wait here, I'm going to run in and speak with Sheriff Stilinski about volunteer opportunities at the station."

Derek looked up at the Sheriff's home. The house was just as he had imagined it – bright, homey, and well groomed. It was truly the stuff of nightmares. At least for people that dreamed about being arrested for accidentally crushing one of Sheriff Stilinski's perfectly groomed blades of grass.

"Shouldn't I go in, too?" Derek asked.

Not that he wanted to, but he felt ridiculous sending his Beta in to ask the Sheriff for a job. Even if it was a volunteer position.

"I thought we already went over this, Alpha," Isaac said, rubbing at the temples on his head.

"_I_," Isaac said, pointing at his chest, "Am a Super Secret Squirrel."

"_You_," Isaac said, pointing at Derek, "Are the Big Bad Alpha, which means you stay out here and keep watch, while I enter the house and speak with Sheriff Stilinski."

"Right…" Derek said, for the first time ever secretly praising Isaac for being the world's most brazen and obnoxious Beta ever.

Isaac rolled his eyes before making his way toward the house.

Derek started to lean on the property's fence.

"Don't lean on that!" Isaac yelled, "You. Big. Fence. Little. Sheriff. Mad."

Derek straightened immediately, waving the Beta back toward the house.

"Worst, Beta ever," Derek whispered to himself.

* * *

Isaac Lahey's Sunday afternoon may have begun with a disgruntled agreement about the proper treatment of office clipboards (which Isaac was getting damn tired of replacing, _Derek_) – but it was about to get a whole lot _sweeter_. Literally.

Isaac skipped up the steps of the Stilinski house and rang the doorbell, waiting patiently for the door to open.

Okay, he may have knocked on the door twice, too. But Isaac was on a mission in the name of food, and he would not be shamed.

After what felt like a lifetime, the Sheriff finally answered the door.

"Hello, Sheriff Stilinski," Isaac said, beaming back at the man, "My name is Isaac Lahey, and I'm a friend of Stiles. I thought I'd stop by because I have an urgent matter of public importance, and I thought you might like to discuss it in private. While Stiles is away from the house."

The Sheriff raised an eyebrow of suspicion at Isaac.

"Look, son," the Sheriff said, "I don't know what kind of drug you're on, or trying to pedal, but coming to the Sheriff's house to–"

"Oh, no, sir!" Isaac said, sliding the backpack from his shoulder down and digging a hand into the large front pocket, "It's nothing illegal. At least not federally."

"Ah, ha!" Isaac said, triumphantly lifting a king sized KIT KAT bar from the bag.

The Sheriff's eyes grew three times in size looking at the chocolate bar in Isaac's hand.

"Where did you get that?" the Sheriff whispered, looking left and right as if he expected a SWAT team to appear at any minute.

Isaac knew that look well. It was the look of a paranoid man, one that had been trained to have no hope for a better future. This was going better than Isaac had imagined.

"Well," Isaac said, waving the bar in front of the Sheriff's face, "A little birdie told me that you haven't seen a king sized candy bar in years. The store clerks around here are all on strict orders to hide them under lock and key from you."

"You're not working for Stiles are you?" the Sheriff asked, suddenly scowling, "Because if you are, and you tell me you're not, I can and will throw you in jail."

"Nope," Isaac said, emphasizing the pop in the word and bouncing on his feet, "I was just hoping to discuss a prospective partnership with you."

"Why should I trust you?" the Sheriff asked.

Isaac straightened his face into one of grim seriousness.

"I never lie about food, sir," Isaac said.

The Sheriff nodded his head knowingly, recognizing a fellow foodie.

"Why don't you come in, son?" the Sheriff said, "Though, I'll have to confiscate the KIT KAT bar of course, Stiles doesn't allow them in the house."

"Of course," Isaac said, smilingly knowingly at the Sheriff.

"So let me get this straight," the Sheriff said in between bites of the KIT KAT bar, "You want me to help your Alpha secure a date with my son?"

"Uh… Sort of, sir," Isaac said, smiling back at the Sheriff.

"What do you mean sort of?" the Sheriff asked.

"Maybe I should start from the beginning. I happen to know that Stiles is an excellent cook," Isaac said, "And if Stiles is cooking for my Alpha, Stiles is cooking for me, too."

The Sheriff nodded his head seriously, taking the words in.

"And how does this help me?" the Sheriff asked.

"Well, I'm glad you asked that," Isaac said, "I _could_ tell you that if Stiles is dating my Alpha, then Stiles wouldn't be dating that asshole Alpha you dislike so much – which I totally understand by the way, too much Axe, am I right? I _could_ also tell you how that asshole proposed a mating ceremony to Stiles last week–"

"Over my dead body!" the Sheriff yelled, pushing up from his seat.

"Whoa! Calm down, sir," Isaac said, pulling the Sheriff back down, "I said my Alpha would solve both of those problems for you. Eventually. But I don't think you're thinking strategically enough for the here and now. You need to capitalize on the _present_ situation."

"Well?" the Sheriff asked, motioning for Isaac to continue.

"Two words," Isaac said, "Cup. Cakes."

"Cupcakes?" the Sheriff asked, raising an eyebrow in confusion.

"Cupcakes," Isaac said, nodding seriously and pulling his backpack onto the table, "I have in this bag a recipe book for every kind of cupcake imaginable. Imagine waking up on Christmas morning to a cupcake tree, what's a fir tree? Or on Halloween, you could help a cupcake shaped into a ghost find an eternal resting place."

"And did you know there's such a thing as breakfast cupcakes?" Isaac asked, "Remove the icing, and they're called _muffins_."

"I used to love muffins," the Sheriff whispered, eyes wide.

"And my Alpha would make sure that you received them," Isaac said, nodding seriously, "If you play your cards correctly."

"What would I have to do?" the Sheriff asked.

"Well, that depends. Would you say that Stiles bakes more or less when he's stressed?" Isaac asked, offering a playful smirk to the Sheriff.

"Definitely when he's stressed," the Sheriff said, "But… You're not suggesting that we encourage… You want to push Stiles into a stress induced baking frenzy while trying to decide between two Alphas?"

"No–" Isaac began.

"Absolutely not!" the Sheriff said, "That's cruel, and unfair, and–"

"And does not involve the Asshole Axe Alpha," Isaac said.

"What?" the Sheriff asked.

"I'm talking about the Beta that shoots heart eyes at Martha every time he's around," Isaac said, annoyed that he had to explain the plot details.

"Martha?" the Sheriff asked, face morphing into a look of pure confusion.

"Stiles," Isaac said, exasperated, "We're getting off track here. I'm talking about the Beta that has a crush on Stiles."

"Jackson?" the Sheriff asked disbelievingly.

Isaac almost rolled his eyes.

"Yes," Isaac said, "_Jackson_. It's clear that there's something there between the two of them, but I think there could be something between Stiles and my Alpha, too. And while he's deciding on which one of them he wants, you and I could enjoy all the baked goods that he makes in the interim."

"That's…" the Sheriff began.

"Brilliant?" Isaac said.

"I was going to say devious," the Sheriff said.

"Semantics," Isaac said, shrugging his shoulders, "It's not like Stiles wouldn't reach this dilemma eventually. We would just encourage it to occur sooner, and maybe prolong it a bit. That's all. It's 100% his decision whom he intends to date."

"Who's your Alpha, son?" the Sheriff asked.

"Derek Hale, sir," Isaac said.

"Christ," the Sheriff said, "I see why he needs some help."

"Yeah, I know!" Isaac said, almost falling out of the chair due to laughter, "I heard his first meeting with Stiles was a riot. Stiles poisoned his face! Real funny stuff!"

"You're a troubled youth, son" the Sheriff said, shaking his head.

"And our partnership could potentially show me the error of my evil ways," Isaac said, smiling widely at the Sheriff, "It would almost be like a Sheriffly service to help me!"

"Well," the Sheriff said, "When you put it that way…"

Isaac was about to respond when the pair were interrupted by the ringing of his mobile phone.

_I got a thing for drummers. So, baby, show off all dem tricks and bang dem sticks. I love it when it's loud. I love it when it's big._

"Ha, ha," Isaac said, fighting the blush settling over his face, "Ringtones today. Let me just hit ignore."

The Sheriff chuckled at Isaac.

"Have you had breakfast, son?" the Sheriff asked.

"Like second breakfast?" Isaac asked.

* * *

Derek counted the cracks in the sidewalk in front of him for what felt like the hundredth time. Isaac had been in the house for at least twenty minutes. If he hadn't heard Isaac's obnoxious laughter ten minutes ago, Derek would have been certain Sheriff Stilinski was torturing Isaac in the basement.

_"What is taking him so long?"_ Derek thought.

Derek was pulled out of his thoughts at the sound of a motorcycle approaching. Derek watched as the black and silver 2012 Kawasaki ZX-14R that he had seen parking at the Beacon Hills' Police Department pulled up to him on the sidewalk.

"Who the fuck are you?" the redheaded driver asked, stepping off the motorcycle.

Derek took an inhale to quickly scent the air. Yep, definitely Alpha.

"That depends on who's asking," Derek said, letting his eyes bleed red.

The Alpha puffed his chest out.

"Are you here for Stiles?" the Alpha asked, "Because you should know he's spoken for – I'm his mate."

Derek let his face morph into confusion.

"Stiles?" Derek asked.

"Don't play stupid," the Alpha said, claws already unsheathed, "I heard you talking about him last week."

Derek was even more confused now than he had been this morning while trying to eat his Count Chocula in peace.

"Look, _buddy_," Derek said, raising his hands in truce, "I'm not sure what you're talking about. I'm here to see Sheriff Stilinski."

The Alpha let out an outraged sputter.

"So that's it, is it?" the Alpha screamed, "The old man thinks he's going to hire some new Alpha to replace me? Thinks some new cock will walk by, and Stiles will just jump?!"

_"This guy is seriously crazy,"_ Derek thought.

The Alpha let out an outraged roar and lunged toward Derek.

As he was about to let loose his own claws, Derek saw a familiar blue Jeep approaching the house. His entire defense was thrown off by the surprise of seeing Stiles.

Derek felt himself being knocked into the fence Isaac had tried to save earlier by the force of the other Alpha's punch.

"Aiden!" Stiles Stilinski yelled from behind the Alpha, "Stop!"

Derek peeked around the Alpha to see Stiles's face lit up in rage.

"Stiles!" _Aiden_ yelled back, "Who is this asshole?"

"That _asshole_," Stiles said, "Is a friend of mine."

Aiden let out a huff of disbelief.

"Well, what's he doing here?" Aiden asked.

"Unlike _you_, Aiden, I invited him here," Stiles said.

It amazed Derek how Stiles managed to keep his heart calm throughout the lie.

"You invited him here?!" Aiden asked, "That's obscene, Stiles! He's unmated, I can smell it!"

"Aiden, I told you he's just a friend. And it doesn't matter anyways, since I'm also unmated," Stiles said, crossing his arms in front of his torso.

"Baby," Aiden said, face softening, "I know you're mad at me, but I came here to apologize. Really."

Stiles narrowed his eyes at the Alpha.

"You're off to a fine start, punching my own guests in my own home," Stiles said.

_"Wait…"_ Derek thought, _"Did Stiles just refer to Sheriff Stilinski's home as his home, too?"_

"No, baby, you don't understand. I heard him last week–" Aiden said.

"Aiden, enough!" Stiles said, "I think you should go. This isn't the right place or time to discuss our relationship, and I don't feel much like inviting you in right now."

The Alpha let loose a growl of frustration before climbing back onto his motorcycle.

"I'll call you later, baby," Aiden said.

The Alpha turned to narrow his eyes at Derek before starting the motorcycle.

"This isn't over, bitch," Aiden whispered over the rumble of the machine.

"Are you okay?" Stiles asked, leaning down to help Derek up from the ground, "I'm really sorry about him. I don't know what got into him."

"Yeah," Derek said, "I'm fine, just a little surprised is all."

"Surprised?" Stiles asked.

"That you're dating a creep like that," Derek said.

"Yeah, well," Stiles said, shrugging his shoulder noncommittally, "Speaking of creepy – what are you doing here, Derek? How did you know where I lived?"

Derek was extremely confused. If Stiles lived where Sheriff Stilinski lived, then…

"We came to speak with the Sheriff," Isaac said, coming up from behind Derek.

Derek narrowed his eyes at the breakfast burrito in Isaac's hands. That had definitely not been present when they arrived.

"What's up, Marth–I mean, Stiles," Isaac said, lifting his hand to bump knuckles with Stiles.

Stiles stared at Isaac's offered hand.

"You came to speak with my father?" Stiles asked, brow crinkled in confusion.

If Derek weren't still stuck on Stiles referring to Sheriff Stilinski as his father, Derek would have found his crinkled brow incredibly adorable.

_"Oh my god," _Derek thought, _"I'm in love with the Sheriff's son. Not just any sheriff either – Sheriff Stilinski. Living, breathing, walking, terror inducing Sheriff Stilinski."_

Oh, God. Stiles was Stiles _Stilinski_. As in the _Stilinski_ kid that Laura used to make it her personal mission to scare the shit out of every Halloween. Laura still laughs about that to this day. And Stiles had mentioned Cora made fun of him on her blog earlier this month. Derek was so fucked. Once Stiles found out who his family was, there was no way Stiles would give him a chance in hell.

Isaac offered Derek a look of confusion, probably due to Derek's racing heartbeat.

"Uh.. Yeah," Isaac said, "We came by to ask about some volunteer opportunities. Actually, the Sheriff said we should speak with you about formally signing up for Beacon Hunger Relief."

"Oh," Stiles said, eyebrows raising out of a suspicious scowl, "Okay, well, it's the weekend, and all my materials are at the office, so… Why don't you stop by the police station tomorrow morning? I'll get you set up then."

"Sure thing, Stiles," Isaac said, beaming back at the human.

"Alpha Derek can't wait, can you Alpha?" Isaac said, digging his elbow into Derek's side, forcing Derek out of the panic mounting in his mind.

"Uh… So excited, very excited," Derek said, offering a wide smile to Stiles.

"Well," Stiles said, angling back toward his car that he had hazardously parked near the sidewalk in his haste to reprimand Aiden, "Great. I'm looking forward to it, too."

"Thanks, Stiles!" Isaac said, waving as he pulled Derek away from the Stilinski house, "See you tomorrow morning!"

Once the pair were five houses down, Isaac snapped his fingers in front of Derek's face.

"Alpha," Isaac said, "Are you okay?"

"Did you know?" Derek asked, voice cracking.

"Know what?" Isaac asked, taking another large bite of the breakfast burrito.

"Did you know that Stiles was Stiles _Stilinski_?" Derek asked, offering a death glare at the burrito in Isaac's hand.

"Oh," Isaac said in between chews, "Yeah, I saw a photo of them together on the fridge that day Asshole Uncle Peter and I were grabbing the breakfast foods. What did you think Stiles was short for?"

"Asshole Uncle Peter has been in Stiles's house?!" Derek yelled, grabbing tightly onto Isaac's forearm.

"Hey!" Isaac yelled back, pulling on his arm, "That was a lot of food! How else was I supposed to get it back to our house? Two trips?!"

Derek let out a frustrated growl before grabbing hold of the burrito in Isaac's hand.

"Stop stealing their food," Derek said, throwing the burrito on the ground.

"Derek!" Isaac yelled, "Really?!"

Derek glared back at Isaac before turning to start the walk back home.

"Can I live?!" Isaac yelled, running to catch up with him.


	8. We Used to Be Friends

Stiles Stilinski kicked his mid-Friday afternoon off with a deep inhale of fresh Forest Preserve Park air.

Counting his steps in his head, Stiles focused on his breathing and the bass from his headphones.

_A long time ago, we used to be friends, but I haven't thought of you lately at all._

Stiles had taken the rest of the day from late afternoon on off, deciding it was time he put in for some much needed exercise and reflection. Specifically, he wanted to focus his mind and chew on the strangeness that had been the past Monday morning, as well as the mess that had been the last three weeks since Alpha Derek Hale had entered his life.

Two weeks ago, Aiden might have qualified as an issue that needed further reflection; however, since the Alpha's _insane_ mating proposal, Stiles had decided it was time to move on. The two had been _dating_ – or a very loose interpretation of the word at least – since Stiles had met the Alpha last Fall in one of his college courses. Over the course of the last ten months, Aiden had been mysteriously absent for at least half of that time, which only seemed to infuriate his first actual problem to sort through: Jackson Whittemore.

Jackson really was Stiles's best friend – they had been since Jackson punched Greenberg in the face in the eleventh grade. Stiles had only recently announced to a large portion of his classmates that he was sexually interested in men, and Greenberg had suggested that Stiles join him in the locker room shower. Before Stiles could even respond, Jackson had stormed in to defend his honor.

Boneheaded as Jackson's actions may have been, Stiles was genuinely and pleasantly surprised that Jackson thought enough of Stiles to defend him. It hadn't helped that Stiles's former best friend, Scott McCall, hadn't spoken to him in about a month and a half since meeting Allison Argent at a movie theater the next county over. Allison had apparently decided Scott was worth transferring schools for – and what kind of parent even allows that, seriously – and the two had been disgustingly joined at the hip since that time.

So, Stiles made an effort to reach out to the Beta for friendship, and surprisingly Jackson had returned the effort – arguably becoming an even better friend than Scott had been. Even when Jackson had started dating Lydia Martin at the end of the school year, Stiles never felt neglected – though Lydia frequently cites that as one of the many (if not primary) reasons she ended the relationship with Jackson. She felt Jackson cared a little _too_ much about Stiles.

Which is how Stiles ended up becoming friends with Lydia, thinking if she couldn't have Jackson the way she wanted him, she would steal his best friend. Unfortunately for Lydia, Stiles spent more time calling Lydia 'sir' than actually neglecting Jackson.

Stiles smiled at the thought.

Whether or not Jackson had actual feelings of romance for Stiles or not was really out of his hands at this point, since Jackson had never told Stiles one way or the other. In fact, it was better for Stiles to continue on like he didn't even suspect Jackson might want more from their friendship. Stiles preferred their relationship the way it was, a solid (and perhaps socially unconventional) friendship.

Besides, Jackson was possessive enough as a best friend. As a lover, Stiles didn't imagine he would even be able to leave the house alone without considerable arguing from Jackson.

Crisis diverted. Verdict in the case of Beta Jackson Whittemore vs. the State of Stilinski: no news is good news, pretend everything is fine.

Next crisis: Alpha Derek Hale vs. the State of Stilinski.

What troubled Stiles the most about Alpha Derek Hale had been their interaction on Monday – where Stiles had spent more time noticing how nicely Alpha Derek's shoulders had fit into the Beacon Hunger Relief volunteer shirt (and maybe the beautiful hazel color of the Alpha's eyes) than he would have liked.

Alpha Derek's Beta, Isaac, definitely seemed to notice the Alpha's recent affect on Stiles, because the cheeky bastard kept winking at Stiles and then wiggling his eyebrows toward the Alpha.

While he had recognized previously that Alpha Derek was an attractive man, he hadn't actively recognized within the last week how he had stopped referring to the Alpha as Creepy Derek in his head, but instead as Alpha Derek. Or worse, Friend Derek. The transition was making Stiles notice Alpha Derek in a big way, and that made his stomach uncomfortable. His relationship with Aiden had been a disaster, and he wasn't sure how welcoming Jackson or his father might be to a new relationship. Especially with another Alpha.

But Alpha Derek didn't seem to be just another Alpha – if anything, his dynamic with Isaac had proven that Alpha Derek was able to follow as much as he could lead. Stiles still hadn't figured out how the pair's relationship worked, just how Isaac had ended up Beta to the Alpha, but his curiosity was gaining. And that terrified Stiles, because often times his romantic interest in a person was preceded by curiosity. Curiosity was bad.

_"Verdict reached,"_ Stiles thought, _"No more curiosity. And no more staring at the chest hair peeking through Alpha Derek's henleys."_

Besides, Alpha Derek was a Hale – something he had learned after the Alpha had visited him at the police station the first time, and his father had informed him the Alpha's first name was Derek. There was no way in Hell that Stiles was touching a sibling of Laura Hale. That woman was absolutely terrifying, and she knew it.

Stiles shuddered at the thought of Laura Hale.

_"No more curiosity, Stiles,"_ Stiles thought, _"We can do this. We do not care about Alpha Hale, or his Beta."_

Final crisis: Stiles Stilinski vs. Sheriff Stilinski.

For the past week, Stiles's father had continued to corner him – asking odd questions about what Jackson intended to do after college, whether the two would look to stay in Beacon Hills or move somewhere new together, and whether or not Jackson was currently dating anyone.

More strange, the Sheriff just happened to be around to receive several bouquets of flowers delivered to the office and addressed to Stiles. Each one signed anonymously, and his father kept insisting that they might be from Jackson.

Stiles gave a huff as he recalled his latest conversation with his father over lunch that day.

_"Okay, old man," Stiles said once the Sheriff's office door had swung shut, "What's your game here?"_

_The Sheriff raised his eyebrows in surprise._

_"What game?" his father asked._

_"Don't play dumb with me," Stiles said, "You've never taken such a large interest in Jackson's life before – Tuesday night, you asked him about school, what he wanted to do with his life, whether or not he was interested in starting a family, if he was dating a woman or a man. And you know that he's been having dinner at our house more nights than not since the eleventh grade. You didn't say a word to him that wasn't related to ESPN for all of June! And the day Jackson Whittemore sends me flowers is the day that Hell has truly frozen over. What are you up to?"_

_"Can't a father just take an interest in his child's friends?" his father asked, raising his hands._

_Stiles crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes at the Sheriff._

_"You're being weird," Stiles said, "You haven't been this weird since the Butterfinger War of 2011, have you had chocolate recently?"_

_The Sheriff let out a gasp of outrage, clutching a hand to his heart._

_"Stiles!" his father said, "I can't believe you would accuse me of going against our Candy Bar Treaty! And I already told you, Jackson looked a little sad that night, and I was just trying to show him that I cared about him. As your friend."_

_Stiles narrowed his eyes at the Sheriff again._

_"Okay," Stiles said, sighing in defeat, "I'm sorry I accused you of being a poor and deceitful father. I'm just a little on edge with Jackson since our big blow out over Aiden. Derek Hale isn't helping either."_

_The Sheriff nodded his head._

_"Do you want to talk about the Alpha, son?" his father asked, "You know you can talk to me about these things. It might do you some good, you've seemed stressed lately."_

If Stiles didn't know better, he would say that his father had seemed almost joyful at Stiles's recent strain.

Stiles shook the thought off as he jumped over a fallen tree branch.

Someone had left a cupcake recipe book on his desk while he was away at lunch on Monday, and he thought briefly about stopping by the office on his way home to retrieve it. Originally, he had thought someone was trying to turn the book into the lost and found inventory, but no one had come back by to explain the book's presence.

It looked like a lot of fun, maybe he would try baking tonight to help relieve some tension.

* * *

Derek Hale began his Saturday afternoon off with a deep growl of annoyance.

Isaac had spent the past week constantly on his mobile phone, snickering at this or that. Within the last fifteen minutes, Derek had counted a total of twenty notification buzzes.

Twenty.

_"Who is he even talking to?"_ Derek thought.

Derek probably had a total of four numbers in his mobile phone: his mother (Talia), his sisters (Laura and Cora), and Isaac.

It wasn't Sunday, so Derek wasn't going to be calling or texting his mother, he'd rather chew on a box of thumb tacks than initiate a conversation with either of his sisters, and Isaac was in the room. And there was no way Isaac knew more people in Beacon Hills than he did – Derek had just moved back there with Isaac in tow at the start of summer.

Well, actually it might be possible. Isaac was a lot more social than Derek, but that didn't mean he had to be happy about it.

Isaac's phone buzzed again, followed quickly by actual laughter from the Beta.

"Who are you talking to?" Derek asked.

"What?" Isaac asked.

"On your phone," Derek said, "Who do you keep texting?"

"Oh, uh… A guy I met at the volunteer site I signed up for through Stiles?" Isaac asked.

Derek tried to listen to a skip in Isaac's heartbeat, but the buzzing from that infernal mobile phone distracted him before he could determine whether or not the Beta was lying.

"Derek!" Isaac said, "My site coordinator is a woman named Erica Reeses or something – she's some weird hippie chick with blonde dreads, only does everything all organic and communes with 'Mother Earth' – which means she talks to dirt, Alpha. Dirt."

Derek's eyes grew in size from alarm. He hadn't even met his site coordinator yet, and he definitely hadn't given much thought to what the coordinator's personality might be. They were just some blob that would help him get closer to Stiles.

Derek turned to focus back on Isaac, realizing the Beta had been talking to him while he had been lost in thought.

"…So I think I'm gonna have to text Martha to figure something else out," Isaac said.

Derek's eyebrows rose.

"What?" Derek asked.

Isaac gave a deep sigh.

"Alpha," Isaac said, staring at his mobile phone, "You should see her nails. I just can't work with that, it's too distracting."

"No," Derek said, "Before that, you said something about texting Stiles."

Isaac turned a confused face toward Derek.

"Yes, Alpha," Isaac said, "A text is like a tiny email that you can send from phone to phone to communicate."

Derek rolled his eyes.

"I _know_ that," Derek growled, "I meant, you have Stiles's number?"

Isaac smiled brightly back at Derek.

"Oh!" Isaac said, "Yeah, I texted myself from his phone while he was busy staring at your pecs on Monday."

Derek sputtered into the glass of water that he had lifted to his mouth.

"What?!" Derek asked.

"You didn't notice?" Isaac asked, quirking an eyebrow, "He totally was checking you out. I gave him the two thumbs up."

"No!" Derek said, "I was too busy trying to figure out what your face was doing with your eyebrows."

Isaac rolled his eyes this time.

"They were telling you all systems go!" Isaac said, "Papa Martha almost achieved."

Derek sat in shock at the news that Stiles might be showing interest in him.

"Hey, Alpha," Isaac said, "I gotta run. I promised Erica that I'd check out some earthworms with her or something. I don't really remember, it was naturey. I'll stop by the grocery store and pick us up some cupcakes to make up for our dateless weekend. And maybe some muffins, I'll see what's available."

If Derek didn't know better, he would say that Isaac looked almost gleeful to visit the grocery store. Isaac was _never_ happy to complete a chore, especially when it involved spending his own money.

"Can I borrow a ten from you?" Isaac asked, already reaching his hand out.

Derek took a moment to commune with the Lord.

* * *

Jackson Whittemore began his Saturday afternoon off with a huff of aggravation.

It had been a long time since Jackson and Stiles had spent an entire day to just have fun together, and things were still somewhat tense since Jackson had tried to barter for Stiles with Aiden. That had been a tremendous mistake that Jackson wasn't quite sure what to do to makeup for, but he had thought driving Stiles all the way out to Sacramento to visit the zoo might have been a good start.

Unfortunately, Stiles kept pulling his phone out every five or ten minutes, telling Jackson what witty thing Lydia or his father had said.

"Hey," Jackson said, pulling Stiles's phone out of Stiles's hand and putting it in his own pocket, "Let's put the phones away. I haven't gotten to spend one-on-one time with you in a while, and it would be nice if we could just focus on us while we're here."

Stiles raised an eyebrow in question at Jackson.

"Don't give me that look," Jackson said, "You're here with me, not whoever else you were texting. That's rude."

"What's rude," Stiles said, "Is stealing my phone away, and if I didn't know better I would say you're jealous of my other friends."

"So what if I am?" Jackson asked, offering a small smirk to Stiles, "You're a good friend, and I want to keep you as mine."

Before Stiles could respond, the pair were interrupted by a voice calling Stiles's name from behind.

"Stiles!" the voice yelled across the rest area.

Jackson turned toward the Red Panda exhibit where the voice seemed to be coming from, and found none other than Scott McCall walking toward them. A huge smile plastered on his face.

"Hey, Scott," Stiles said, clearly using his This-is-Awkward voice, "It's been a while, how are you?"

Scott seemed unfazed by Stiles's lack of excitement to see him.

"It's been a really long time!" Scott said, "It's real good to see you though, what are you doing here?"

Jackson stepped forward before Stiles could answer.

"Well, _we_ just decided to have a day of fun in Sacramento," Jackson said, lifting his arm over Stiles's shoulders.

Scott looked at Jackson for the first time with narrowed eyes.

"Oh," Scott said, "You're here with Jackson. Nice to see you, too, Jackson."

"Yeah," Jackson said, "It's been a while. I didn't realize you were released already from your jail time."

Jackson offered his widest smile to Scott.

"I got out yesterday," Scott said, mouth twisting into a frown, "My community work got me early parole."

"They offer parole to murdering arsonists?" Jackson asked, smile still in place.

"Just because I couldn't prove it wasn't arson, didn't mean it was," Scott said, "It was an accident. And you're alive! I didn't _know_ that you were in the car at the time. Who the fuck takes a nap in their backseat?"

"As I said in court," Jackson said, "I was waiting for Stiles to finish his run, I was picking him up to take him out to dinner with his father."

Scott rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, well," Scott said, "I'm sorry."

The 'That I didn't do it while we were still under 18, and I couldn't be tried as an adult' implied at the end of the apology didn't go ignored by Jackson.

"Well," Stiles said, "It's great that you're making amends and building a new life. We were just on our way out, we've seen most of the exhibits already, and we were thinking of getting some lunch in the city."

Scott's face turned into a pout, puppy dog eyes on stun.

"Oh, no!" Scott said, "Please don't go, I just got here. We could walk around together maybe."

"No, really," Jackson said, "We couldn't. Sheriff Stilinski is expecting us back in time for dinner, right Stiles?"

Stiles nodded his head, offering a sympathetic nod to Scott.

"Okay," Scott said, puppy eyes still directed at Stiles, "Well, call me sometime. My number is still the same, I'm requesting to move back to Beacon Hills through my parole officer. Maybe we could do lunch or something and catch up when I get back."

"Sure," Stiles said, offering a polite smile to Scott.

Jackson rolled his eyes.

"Later, McCall," Jackson said, grabbing Stiles's hand and pulling him toward the exit.

"Well, that was awkward," Stiles said, once they had made it out to the parking lot.

"He's an idiot," Jackson said, unlocking the Porsche, "But maybe we should call the police to check my car out before we attempt the ignition."

"Ha, ha," Stiles said dryly, "Hey, did you send me three bouquets of flowers at the office this week?"

_We used to be friends a long time ago. A long time ago._

* * *

Isaac Lahey ended his Saturday afternoon with an exclamation of indignation.

"Hey!" Isaac yelled, looking up from the ground that he had just been pushed to by the Gruesome Twosome: Laura and Cora Hale.

"Aww," Laura cooed from above, "Is the little Beta okay?"

"Forget him," Cora said, lifting the linen wrapped basket Isaac had been carrying, "I smell baked goods – _delicious_ baked goods."

"Yeah, you're right, Cora," Laura said, lifting one of the linens to peak inside the basket, "Cupcakes! And muffins! Score!"

"Hey, those are mine!" Isaac said, still sitting on the ground.

"Finders keepers," Laura mumbled from behind two muffins already stuffed into her mouth.

"You know, Laura," Cora said, "I haven't smelled a baked good this sweet since high school."

Laura quirked an eyebrow at Cora.

"Since _high school_," Cora repeated.

Laura swallowed the rest of the muffin in her mouth.

"_Ohhhh_," Laura said, turning a deceptively sweet smile back to Isaac, "Hey, Isaac, where did you get these?"

"From a friend," Isaac said, jutting his jaw out in anger, "What's it to you?"

"This friend," Cora said, "Wouldn't happen to be _Stiles Stilinski_ would he, Isaac?"

Isaac's stomach twisted into knots. He didn't know why, but he felt like something bad was happening. Derek would not like this.

"Uh… No?" Isaac said.

"Lie," Cora said, reaching toward Isaac, "You hold him down, Laura."

Laura took a step toward Isaac before his fear overcame his bravery.

"Okay, okay!" Isaac said, lifting his hands in defeat, "Stiles made them."

"How do you know Stiles, Isaac?" Laura asked.

"Uh… I'm volunteering for Beacon Hunger Relief?" Isaac said.

"Really?" Laura asked, with a definite note of suspicion in her voice, "And what's Derek have to say about that? He doesn't like to volunteer his time."

Isaac remained silent, staring up at the two defiantly.

"You know, Isaac," Cora said, "I've got a new shade of lipstick that I've been dying to try out, but I haven't finished my current one. Your lips would be the perfect test canvas, don't you think Laura?"

"Oh, yes," Laura said, smiling brightly down at Isaac, "And we'll have to see how your blush matches up to the color, too. Maybe we should curl his lashes to match yours as well, that way we could test out your new eyeliner, too. Remember how much you liked the eye lash curler last time, Isaac?"

Isaac shivered at the memory.

"Derek signed us up for Beacon Hunger Relief, because Stiles is organizing the event, and he's trying to impress Stiles," Isaac confessed quickly.

Both Cora and Laura squawked in excitement simultaneously. Isaac was sure that Laura was about to fall to the ground next to him from sheer laughter.

"Oh, this is _rich_, Cora," Laura said, "Grumpy Cat Derry has a crush on Beacon's own Snow White!"

"What does that make you, Isaac?" Cora asked, still shaking from laughter, "Gus the mouse or Lucifer the cat?"

Isaac scowled back at the Hell spawn (and then immediately snickered privately at the double entendre).

"Actually," Isaac said, "That's Cinderella, get your classic films straight. And if Derek and I are any Disney characters, it's obviously Kristoff and Olaf."

Cora shook with new waves of laughter, but Laura seemed to straighten into seriousness.

"Hey, Cora," Laura said, "Do you remember that diary you used to keep about your crush on Stiles?"

Cora stopped laughing immediately, now shaking her head violently at Laura.

"You remember the one," Laura said, smirk widening, "You signed it Cora Hale-Stilinski, and you wrote about that dream you had where you and Stiles opened a bakery together?!"

Cora scowled back at Laura.

"Shut up, Laura!" Cora said, crossing her arms in front of her torso, "That was a long time ago, I moved on."

"Well someone has to tell Derek he's chasing your sloppy seconds," Laura said, still shaking with laughter, "And I think I know where you left that old diary."

Laura turned quickly to start running back to the Hale house.

"Laura, don't you dare!" Cora screamed after her sister.

"I'm fine, guys," Isaac said, climbing to his feet, "Don't worry about little old me. And thanks for taking my cupcakes! Derek gave me ten dollars for those. Now I'll have to actually spend them on cupcakes, you bastards!"

Isaac got no response from the Hale sisters' retreating backs.

"Delete my number!" Isaac yelled after the pair, "I'm done with you forever!"


	9. Crave You

Stiles Stilinski watched closely as the coconut oil began to melt in the stainless steel frying pan in front of him.

"So you invited Isaac Lahey over for dinner tonight?" Stiles asked his father, probably for the tenth time.

The Sheriff gave a deep sigh.

"Yes," his father responded, eyes trained on shredding the lettuce on the cutting board in front of him.

Stiles nodded his head silently.

"And why did you do that?" Stiles asked, "It's on you if Jackson doesn't play nicely with him tonight. You know Jackson is suspicious of any new werewolf that we make friends with."

The Sheriff rolled his eyes.

"I ran into Isaac at the grocery store yesterday," his father said, "He kept leaning into my cart to see what you were making. I don't think that boy eats at home."

"I'm pretty sure Alpha Derek doesn't let Isaac starve," Stiles said, "Derek might seem a little rough around the edges, but it's pretty clear that he adores his Beta."

"Yeah, well Isaac looked close to tears when he saw the chicken breasts in the cart. He muttered something about KFC being a lie," his father asked.

Stiles chuckled.

"Isaac is an odd one, that's for sure" Stiles said, as he placed the two large chicken breasts in question into the pan.

"You want to talk about it?" his father asked.

"Nope," Stiles said quickly, "I'm not even curious why you didn't invite Derek with Isaac. Not that I care about Derek, or Isaac. They're just two acquaintances, really."

"Stiles, I did invite him, Isaac said Derek was bus–" his father said, turning to look at him, "Oh, Christ! Not the couscous again!"

It was Stiles's turn to roll his eyes.

"It's not couscous, dad," Stiles said, "It's quinoa, and it tastes fine."

The Sheriff scrunched his face up into one of dismay.

"Stiles, at no point in the history of man has man thought, 'Hey! Let me eat that thing that tastes _fine_. That's what I want!'" his father said.

"Stop being ridiculous," Stiles said, "I'm going to add some cilantro, lime juice, and a pinch of salt – it'll taste just like that rice you don't need from Chipotle. Unless you want to eat your burrito bowl tonight with just chicken, grilled veggies, and lettuce?"

"I will accept the not-rice rice, Stiles," his father said, giving a huff in defeat, "Can I at least have some shredded cheese?"

* * *

"So, Isaac," the Sheriff asked, seated at the head of the table and next to the Beta at the dining room table, "Do you go to school?"

Stiles watched the two men interact, seated across from Isaac and next to his father.

Jackson Whittemore snorted from Stiles's right. Stiles might have swatted Jackson for being rude, if he didn't share the Beta's alarm at the rate Isaac was shoveling food into his mouth.

Stiles is pretty sure his father only asked the question to ensure that the Beta actually breathed while eating.

Isaac Lahey smiled politely up at the Sheriff, a small trail of Stiles's homemade habanero salsa dripping down the Beta's chin.

"Alpha Derek is paying for my online classes," Isaac said, "We met in Portland about two years ago, and I became his Beta pretty quickly after that. We didn't know where we would end up, so Alpha convinced me to look into an online school, at least until we settled somewhere. I don't really have much of a family outside Alpha Derek, and I don't have much savings either. I'm really appreciative of Alpha Derek for helping me pay for school."

The Sheriff nodded his head knowingly.

"Good, good," his father said, "Do you have a girlfriend, son?"

Stiles choked on the water he had been sipping.

"Dad–" Stiles said.

"Uh… No, sir," Isaac said, clearly uncomfortable with the subject.

"What about Alpha Derek?" Jackson said, voice a little too saccharine, "You two would make a cute couple."

"Shut up, Jackson," Stiles said, "You don't get to judge anyone's relationship choices, or do I need to remind you that you briefly dated Lydia Martin?"

"Lydia…" his father repeated.

Stiles could see the figurative wheels turning in his father's head.

"Is that the female friend you always refer to as a 'sir', Stiles?" his father asked.

Jackson choked on his own water.

"Do you have more?" Isaac asked Stiles, eyes wide with hope and plate licked clean.

"Here," his father said, offering his plate over to Isaac, "You can have my couscous, son."

* * *

"Dad, why don't you help me take the dishes into the kitchen?" Stiles asked, "You can help me grab dessert, too."

"I'll help," Jackson said, jumping to his feet to assist.

"No!" Stiles said, pushing Jackson back down, "You're our guest."

Jackson's face morphed into a scowl, but he remained seated as Stiles and the Sheriff left the room.

"Stiles," his father said, once the kitchen door had shut, "Will we be giving each guest a basket of baked goods for dessert, or are you just wanting to do a simple platter?"

Stiles turned to observe the kitchen island that was overflowing with treats.

"Ha, ha, father," Stiles said dryly, "It's fine, I've got everything under control."

"Really?" his father asked, nodding his head toward the breakfast table that was also overflowing with small cakes and breads.

"Okay," Stiles said, "Maybe I am stress baking, but this will all be good for Beacon Hunger Relief. And don't think I haven't noticed you sneaking a basket or two out of here this week – enjoy it while it lasts, old man, because I've scheduled another physical with Dr. Deaton for you."

"Why do you hate me, son?" his father asked, a frown taking over his face.

Stiles chuckled.

"I love you, dad," Stiles said, "And that's why I restrict your diet – because I want you around for as long as possible."

"Hmphf," his father grunted.

"Now grab a platter," Stiles said, "Unless you think the human garbage disposal out there will be needing a basket to take home, maybe to take some back to Derek? I was slightly afraid for your hand when you offered the rest of your quinoa over."

"Me, too, son," his father said, walking toward the garage to grab a basket for Isaac, "Me, too."

* * *

When Stiles returned to the dining room with his father, he found Isaac and Jackson in the middle of an intense staring contest. Or scowling contest.

"Hey, you two," Stiles said, "I've got dessert."

Isaac's scowl immediately slipped into a bright smile, as the Beta clapped his hands manically.

"I hope those are your apple zucchini muffins," Isaac said.

"My what?" Stiles asked, "You've had my zucchini muffins before?"

"Uh…" Isaac said, "I've heard things about them. Cora, I think, mentioned them at the Hale house one time."

Stiles shivered at the memory of Cora Hale. Laura Hale was terrifying, but Cora wasn't a Hale to be ignored either. The girl had forced friendship upon Stiles in the tenth grade, and she usually demanded a new baked good each week. It hadn't been until his close friendship with Jackson that Cora faded into the background again.

_"I wonder if that was Jackson's doing,"_ Stiles thought, glancing at the still scowling Beta.

"He keeps calling me Sven," Jackson said sullenly.

"Do what?" Stiles asked.

"Sven," Jackson repeated, gritting his teeth, "The Endless Stomach keeps referring to me as Sven."

Isaac cackled mercilessly, a muffin already in each hand.

"It was that or Hans," Isaac said, cheeks sticking out as if two tennis balls resided there, "And trust me, you don't want to be Hans. Asshole Axe Alpha already claimed that title."

"Who?" Stiles and Jackson asked simultaneously, both raising an eyebrow in confusion.

"Uh… Isaac," his father said, "Stiles has offered a basket of baked goods to you, why don't you help me fill it up in the kitchen."

Isaac's eyes grew three times in size at the offer. The Beta looked over at Stiles with tears brimming.

"I get to choose?" Isaac asked.

"Uh… Yeah?" Stiles said.

The Beta rushed forward to pull Stiles into a bone crushing hug.

"I don't care what anybody says about you, Martha," Isaac whispered, "You are not high maintenance or too much trouble."

_"This Beta is insane,"_ Stiles thought.

"Thank you?" Stiles said.

Jackson cleared his throat from behind.

"Stiles," Jackson said, "Can I talk to you privately before I leave?"

"Sure," Stiles said, still confused about Isaac's recent statements.

Jackson grabbed ahold of Stiles's hand and led him to the front door of the house.

"Bye, Sven!" Isaac called from behind, following the Sheriff into the kitchen.

Jackson rolled his eyes and pushed Stiles out onto the porch, closing the door behind them.

"You called me a _guest_," Jackson said, emphasizing the word like it was something foul and eyes narrowed at Stiles.

"Do what?" Stiles asked, sitting on the edge of the porch railing.

"In there!" Jackson said, waving violently into the house, "In front of your father. You told me not to help you in the kitchen, because I was a _guest_."

"Okay…" Stiles said, still confused.

Jackson moved to stand in front of Stiles.

"Stiles, I haven't been a guest in this house since the day I punched Greenberg in the face for suggesting you join him in the locker room shower," Jackson said.

Stiles smiled at the memory.

"Stiles, I can accept if you're mad at me about Aiden – or Scott," Jackson said, "Although, no, not really. McCall is insane, he tried to come between us by killing me."

"Jackson," Stiles said, "What is your point?"

"My point is," Jackson said, voice rising into a plead, "Don't take our friendship away, too."

Stiles pulled Jackson down to sit on the railing with him.

"Jackson, I'm not mad about you and Aiden," Stiles said, "Or you and Scott. They both made their own stupid choices in how they handled their relationships with me."

A wave of relief washed over the Beta's face.

"I'm mad," Stiles said, punching Jackson's arm, "Because you tried to barter for me! And you stormed into my house to fight a fight that I needed to handle on my own. You didn't ask me what I wanted at all. And you did the same thing by butting into my conversation with Scott at the zoo."

Jackson nodded his head slowly.

"Okay," Jackson said, "And I apologize about that, I can see how that would anger you. But I only did those things because I care a lot about you, Stiles."

"I know," Stiles said, "And usually that's okay, I can usually see and accept the good intentions behind your boneheaded actions, but this time I'm kind of lost, Jackson. You've hated Aiden since the day I first told you I met him – before we were even quasi-dating. And I'm kind of at a loss as to why."

"You mean beyond the fact that he's an asshole?" Jackson asked, brow arched in defiance.

"Yes, he's an asshole, I get it," Stiles said, "Lesson learned, and I promise that ship has sailed. Aiden and I are over. But I'm worried for the future, because I'm starting to notice someone else. And I'm not sure you can be supportive of that."

"Oh," Jackson said, staring down at his sneakers.

"You're my best friend, Jackson," Stiles asked, bumping the Beta's shoulder, "And I need you to support me in all areas of my life, not just a select few."

Jackson gave a loud huff.

"Stiles," Jackson said, "I know that – it's just hard for me, because sometimes I think about how good it would be if you and I were…"

Stiles stared at Jackson as the Beta let his sentence trail off.

"What I mean is…" Jackson said, "Why do you go after these Alpha goons? Or let them pursue you? You're better than that, and I already know you're talking about Isaac's Alpha – it was written all over your face when Isaac was talking about what a great guy his Alpha was for helping him through school."

"I don't know, Jackson," Stiles said, "I rushed things with Aiden in the beginning because he was the first person at college that gave me attention like that. I held on thinking that meant something, but it didn't. But it feels different with this Alpha – I couldn't stand his face when we first met, but I've gotten to glimpse little parts of him, and he seems sweet. Really sweet."

Jackson snorted.

"I can be sweet, too, Stiles," Jackson said, "I didn't send you those flowers at work that you asked about, but I would if that's what you wanted. Just tell me what you want, Stiles."

Jackson placed Stiles's hands into his own, looking earnestly into Stiles's face.

"Jackson…" Stiles said, throat suddenly dry, "I want… I want our friendship."

"Stiles, we could be so much more," Jackson said, "We've known each other for years, and I know you better than almost anyone else – even your father in some ways. I lov–"

"Jackson," Stiles said, interrupting Jackson before the Beta could finish that particular declaration.

"Give up," Stiles whispered.

"What?" Jackson asked, reeling back as though he had been physically struck.

"I love you, too, Jackson," Stiles said, "But as a friend. Like a brother."

Jackson stared back down at his sneakers.

"So that's it?" Jackson asked.

Stiles nodded his head.

"I need to go," Jackson said, standing up, "I'll call you. In a few days maybe. I think I need some space."

"Okay," Stiles said, nodding his head again, "That's not a false promise, right? You're family to me, Jackson. I want you in my life."

"No," Jackson said, stepping off the porch, "It's not a false promise. We'll talk later."

* * *

Stiles sighed against the front door after reentering the house.

"Everything okay there, son?" his father asked, peeking his head out from the living room to watch him.

"Do what, dad?" Stiles asked.

"I asked if everything was okay, son," his father said.

"Oh," Stiles said, "Fine. Everything is fine."

"Mmhmm," his father said disbelievingly, "Well, Isaac is washing up the dishes in the kitchen – don't give me that look, he insisted. He said he owed you for demolishing what could have been two weeks of leftovers."

"I'll go relieve him of his chores then," Stiles said, walking toward the kitchen.

Stiles walked into the kitchen to see the Beta dancing in front of the sink, huge yellow gloves dropping suds all around him on the floor, a plate raised high in his right hand, and the dish brush propped like a microphone in his left.

"I'm so fancy, you already know! I'm in the fast lane, from L.A. to Tokyo," the Beta sang out, "I'm so fancy, can't you taste this gold? Remember my name, I'm about to blow!"

Stiles couldn't help but chuckle.

Isaac turned around quickly, clutching the dish brush and plate to his chest.

"Martha!" Isaac yelled.

Stiles scrunched his brow in confusion.

"I mean," Isaac said, "Stiles! I didn't hear you come in, sorry."

"It's okay, Isaac," Stiles said, "I was kind of enjoying the show."

A pink blush settled over the Beta's face.

"Sorry," Isaac repeated, "I was trying to block the end of your conversation with Jackson out. It seemed like a private moment. Supernatural hearing, you know?"

"Oh," Stiles said, moving forward to dry the dishes Isaac had completed washing, "Thank you."

"Tough break though, man," Isaac said, slapping a sudsy yellow glove on Stiles's shoulder, "He seems like a good friend at least. He practically uprooted the table when I was talking about my Alpha. He definitely looks out for you."

"Yeah, he is," Stiles said, offering a small smile to the Beta.

"I'm headed down to that bar on Olive to meet a friend," Isaac said, "You're welcome to join if you want to let loose and have some fun."

"Thanks, Isaac," Stiles said, "I appreciate that, but I think I'm just going to head to bed early. I'm glad you came over for dinner though, you should come back sometime. You're a lot of fun, and my dad seems to really like you."

Isaac beamed back at Stiles.

"You don't have to bend my arm, Stiles," Isaac said, "I'm sold on your food. Maybe Alpha Derek could join sometime, too?"

"Yeah," Stiles said, "That would be fun."

"Great!" Isaac said, practically glowing with happiness as he removed the yellow gloves, "Well, text me when you want to get together. Thank you for tonight!"

"Wait," Stiles said, stopping Isaac from leaving the room, "I don't have your number, let me get my phone."

"Yes, you do, Mar–Stiles!" Isaac said, "I put my number in the other day while you were drooling over Alpha Derek."

"What?" Stiles squawked, feeling a deep blush cover his face.

"Don't worry," Isaac said, "Alpha Derek was ecstatic when I told him."

Stiles was at a loss for words. All he could do was watch as Isaac offered a wink and two thumbs up before leaving the kitchen.

* * *

Jackson Whittemore needed a stiff drink – which is how he ended up sitting on a stool at Dirty Dick's on Olive after leaving the Stilinski house.

Jackson waved at the bartender to fill his shot glass again.

The steady bass of the establishment's stereos seeped into his ears.

_Why can't you want me like the other boys do? They stare at me, while I stare at you._

"Sven?!" a voice called from behind him as he swallowed the shot down.

Only one voice was that annoying – and only one person was annoying enough to refer to him as anything so ridiculous: Beta Isaac.

"Ugh," Jackson groaned, resting his head on the bar's surface.

"Sven!" Isaac repeated, sitting down next to him, "What a coincidence! What are you doing here?"

"Go away, Isaac," Jackson said, "I'm drowning my sorrows."

"That seems harmful," Isaac said, shaking his head, "You should be more productive with your emotions. No one famous for accomplishing something positive ever said, 'Hey! That alcohol really helped turn it around for me'. It just seems lazy."

"Okay," Jackson said, sneering at the other Beta, "How about I feel like productively removing your head from the rest of your body?"

"Barkeep!" Isaac yelled at the bartender, motioning toward Jackson's shot glass, "He needs another one of those."

"What are you doing here, Isaac?" Jackson asked.

"I'm meeting a new friend here," Isaac said, face beaming, "I haven't know him very long, we actually met through a pen pal service. He's had kind of a rough time of it this last year and a half, and coincidentally he just recently moved to Beacon Hills."

"Fascinating," Jackson said sarcastically, swallowing the new shot down.

"Yeah," Isaac said, "I'm really nervous. I don't have many friends, and this guy seemed really nice in his emails."

"You seem to be making plenty of friends," Jackson said, "Sheriff Stilinski and Stiles included."

"You think so?" Isaac asked, "I really like them a lot, I'm hoping they're not just taking pity on me."

"Trust me, Isaac," Jackson said, "Stiles does very little out of pity. I found out tonight."

"Oh," Isaac said, suddenly looking like he bit into a sour lemon.

"Do you want to talk abou– what? Jackson, why are you glaring?" Isaac asked.

Jackson scowled at Scott McCall entering the bar behind Isaac.

"I'm not glaring at you, Isaac," Jackson said, "I'm glaring at that man over there."

Scott smirked as he made eye contact with Jackson, then he walked up to the bar beside Jackson to order a drink.

"Oh, do you know him?" Isaac whispered.

"Unfortunately," Jackson said back.

"Oh," Isaac whispered again, watching Scott move away from the bar, "Are you sure? He didn't seem to know you."

"Yes," Jackson said, clutching his jaw.

"I don't know, Sven," Isaac said, "He really didn't seem to notice you. I don't think he knows you."

"He knows me!" Jackson yelled back, "And stop calling me that ridiculous name."

"Okay," Isaac said, slurping on the straw of the water the bartender set down in front of him, "I just think it's strange that he would treat you like a stranger if he knows you. Not everyone knows who Jackson Whittemore is, you know."

Jackson scowled back at Isaac.

"Scott McCall knows who I am, Isaac," Jackson growled out.

Isaac's face shifted from confused concern into something bright and surprised.

"Did you say Scott McCall?" Isaac asked, eyes wide as his head whipped back around toward Scott.

"Yes," Jackson ground out again.

"That's the friend I'm meeting!" Isaac said, waving violently toward Scott, "Hey! Hey, Scott!"

Jackson grabbed ahold of Isaac's forearm.

"What did you do, Isaac?" Jackson asked, "Sign up for a prison pen pal service?"

"Yeah!" Isaac said back excitedly, "Alpha Derek wasn't into it, but it seemed like a great way to meet new people from a safe distance."

"I'll see you later, Sven," Isaac said, hopping off the barstool and heading over to Scott.

Jackson rolled his eyes and motioned for another shot.

* * *

Jackson waved a hand of thanks to the bartender. He had spent the last hour and a half watching Isaac make a fool of himself with Scott, who seemed to really be pounding quite a few drinks down.

Jackson was about to turn away from the bar when he felt something – or rather someone – slam into him from behind.

"You!" Scott yelled, pulling on Jackson's shoulder to turn him around.

"You!" Scott repeated, "You _ruined_ my friendship with Stiles. You smarmy bastard."

Jackson rolled his eyes and pushed Scott back a few feet. Isaac, only a few feet away, seemed to be watching the two interact with apprehension.

"You," Jackson said, poking Scott in the chest, "Set my car on fire, with me in it! You ruined your own friendship."

Scott sputtered.

"You're fine!" Scott yelled back, "I only did that because I was angry at you. I wanted to take something away from you like you took Stiles away from me."

Isaac stepped forward, putting a steadying hand on Scott.

"Okay," Isaac said, "I think he knows you, Sven."

"You think?" Jackson asked dryly.

"I'm sorry, okay?!" Scott yelled, "I would take it back if I could. It was our first year at college, and I was lonely. Allison moved to New York, and Stiles was just… Gone. He was always there before, until you. Allison dumped me after my court sentencing. Her father didn't approve."

Jackson let loose a deep sigh.

"Scott," Jackson said, "Stiles had been gone for almost two years before that. You were too dumb to notice. And you're too drunk to listen to reason right now, so step back before I make you."

Scott glared back at Jackson, but Isaac seemed to be pulling Scott away from Jackson.

Jackson nodded a goodbye to Isaac before stepping toward the door.

Jackson wasn't nearly as drunk as he had hoped to be by the end of the night, wherein Stiles stepped on his heart, he ran into Scott McCall again, and Isaac attributed a new stupid nickname for him. This night was shit.

But there was one good thing that had come out of it all: Beta Isaac's advice. Drinking wouldn't solve anything, and Stiles had been clear that he wanted nothing but friendship from Jackson. So they would continue to be friends, but Jackson was going to be productive with the rest of their time together.

Starting with checking out this _Alpha Dere_k and his Beta, Isaac.

* * *

Peter Hale watched closely as the young Beta and human fought near the bar of Dirty Dick's.

Sitting in the shadowed corner, Peter pondered how Isaac knew either man. If he had to guess, the common denominator was this _Stiles Stilinski_ every Hale relation seemed to be obsessed with lately.

It was all Peter could do not to throttle Isaac, as the Beta had spent the last three weeks prattling on about one of Stiles's many talents. Eyes wide, and face beaming with sheer happiness.

It was irritating beyond words.

What was interesting though was the way that his nephew, Derek, would blush at the mention of Stiles. And how their kitchen seemed to be overflowing with sweet treats supposedly made by him.

Peter had rolled his eyes when his nieces, Laura and Cora, came running into the Hale house last weekend screaming at one another about Stiles, but this bar scene was the last straw.

Peter would find out what kind of person Stiles was for himself. There might be a legitimate reason Stiles was in such high demand by the people around him, and if that was the case, Peter might just need to secure his own attachment to this new golden goose.

First, he would have to figure out where Stiles lived. That couldn't be too hard, he'd just have to follow Isaac the next time he offered a mysterious reason for leaving the house, almost tripping on his feet in joy. Probably collecting more baked goods.

_"Being naturey with Erica Reeses my ass,"_ Peter thought.


	10. Big Poppa

Derek Hale snorted as he watched his Beta, Isaac Lahey, sitting upside down on the couch in their living room, slowly lick the frosting off of the cupcake in his hand. The cupcake smelled like coffee.

"Where did you get that?" Derek asked, eyes narrowed.

"Uh… A local bakery," Isaac said, "They were just giving them out, I think they're overstocked."

"Mmhmm," Derek said, unconvinced, "Well, that's your fifth one today since lunch, so you might want to slow it down, bud."

"That's why I'm eating it upside down, Alpha," Isaac said, rolling his eyes, "Asshole Uncle Peter said that would mean it took longer to get to my thighs. Duh"

Derek rolled his own eyes at the absurdity.

"That's not a real thing," Derek said, grabbing onto Isaac's arm and hoisting the Beta upright onto the couch, "You're gonna give yourself a blood clot doing that. How's your face feel?"

"Hey!" Isaac yelled, perturbed at being manhandled, "It's fine. A little numb, but nothing this cupcake won't make better with its sweet, sweet sugary love."

Derek snatched the remaining cupcake out of Isaac's hand and bit into the center. It was good. It was _really_ good. There was something light that had a delicious coffee flavor packed into the middle.

"Alpha!" Isaac said, reaching up to grab the cupcake back, "That's mine, and it's the last one I have! Asshole Uncle Peter took two from me this morning on his way out. I only got to keep this one because he said he didn't like Tiramisu."

Derek snorted as he shoved the rest of the cupcake into his mouth.

"That was good, Isaac," Derek said, nodding, "What was in the middle? It was all fluffy and coffee flavored."

Isaac's eyes grew in size at Derek's question.

"That one had buttercream inside it?!" Isaac shrieked, "I've been searching for another one of those for a _week_ straight, Alpha! You can't just sniff packed buttercream out!"

Derek snorted, turning his back on Isaac to walk out of the living room.

"Ahhh!" Isaac yelled, jumping onto Derek's back, the shock of the attack forcing Derek to the ground.

"Isaac!" Derek yelled, "Isaac, get off of me. What are you doing?"

"No, Alpha!" Isaac said, twisting Derek's arm behind his back, "I've been bullied by almost every Hale in town this week, and I say it stops. Apologize for eating my cupcake, and then we can talk about Martha."

"Stiles?" Derek asked, confusion overcoming his angry scowl, "What's this got to do with Stiles, Isaac?"

"Oh, my God," Isaac said, "You are so bad at this."

"Isaac, what did you mean by _every_ Hale has been bullying you?" Derek asked.

"Nothing, Alpha," Isaac huffed, getting up from the floor, "I didn't mean it."

"Isaac," Derek repeated, red seeping into his eyes.

Isaac stared down at his sneakers.

"Cora, Laura, and Peter," Isaac said, shaking his head.

"Over what?" Derek asked.

Isaac bit his bottom lip.

"Isaac, please tell me they don't know about…" Derek said.

"Stiles," Isaac whispered, nodding his head.

"Fuck," Derek said, sinking down to sit on the couch.

"It'll be okay, Alpha," Isaac said, rushing to Derek's side, "Martha is a strong Papa, there's no way they can ruin everything. You'll just have to make up for a few things, I'm sure."

Derek covered his face with his hands. His family was _literally_ the worst. Especially the terror duo that were his sisters.

"Let's start with how much progress you've made so far, Alpha," Isaac said, running a soothing hand in circles on Derek's back.

"We know that Martha was leering at your chest last week – that's a good sign, Alpha. If he were a leg man, there would be no hope," Isaac said, shaking his head, "But he likes your chest, and maybe your arms, too. You should skip the henley next time you see him in favor of a tank."

"What's wrong with my legs?" Derek asked, turning toward Isaac with an arched eyebrow.

"Not the point," Isaac said, waving Derek's question away, "What we need to seal the deal is _personality_."

"Now," Isaac said, a look of worry overcoming his face, "How much of yours have you shown him?"

"Uh…" Derek said, "I don't know, I think I made him chuckle at the police station when we were signing up for that charity event."

"Okay…" Isaac said, nodding, "Well, stop that. You're not funny, so no more jokes. You need to show him your caring side – you know, that _you_ have a surprise mushy buttercream filling inside."

Derek scowled back at his Beta.

"I can be funny, Isaac," Derek said.

"Of course you can, Alpha," Isaac said, nodding his head quickly, "It's just that your special blend of humor doesn't quite reach the same masses that mine does. Or even Asshole Uncle Peter's. It belongs to a smaller group. And in a box. Where that small group can choose when to open and appreciate your humor."

"Get to the point, Isaac," Derek said, scowling back at the Beta.

"My point is," Isaac said, rushing forward, "How much time have you actually spent getting to know Stiles? Like when he was aware you were there, too, instead of just creeping from the sideline?"

Derek scowled at the hardwood floor in front of him, trying to think about how much time he had actually spent _with_ Stiles.

"Exactly, Alpha," Isaac said, returning to rubbing soothing circles on Derek's back, "I think it's time you actually try explaining to Stiles why you're interested in him. With words."

Derek rolled his eyes, huffing his chest as he stood up from the couch.

"I'm serious, Alpha!" Isaac said, standing up with Derek, "You haven't even really told _me_ why you're interested in Stiles – I know why I want him as my Papa, but I'm not sure why you do."

Derek scowled back at Isaac.

"I… I like that…" Derek said, getting frustrated with the pressure to find words, "It's that he… He's just nice. And giving. He gives all the time, I've seen it."

Isaac beamed back at Derek, motioning with his hand for Derek to continue.

"And…" Derek said, "He isn't afraid of me, he _always_ challenges me. Even when I'm using my Alpha will. I've never seen a human do that – fuck, not even another werewolf unless they were an Alpha, too. He fucking scratched my Camaro, and all I wanted to do was smell his neck forever. For Christ's sake, Isaac! I'm gone on him. He makes me want to be a better Alpha… A better man."

Derek thought that Isaac's smile was about to lift off of the Beta's face with how wide it was growing.

"Kind of like you, Isaac," Derek said, rolling his eyes.

"Alpha!" Isaac yelled, eyes brimming with tears and arms pulling up to wrap around Derek, "That was the sweetest thing you've ever said about me, you do like me!"

"Don't linger on it," Derek said, placing his hand on Isaac's forehead and pushing the Beta an arm's length away.

"Let's go get my Papa," Isaac said, moving underneath Derek's hand and attacking his torso for a bone crushing hug.

* * *

Cora Hale snorted as she watched her sister, Laura, cut two cupcakes in half and then create two new Frankenstein cupcakes.

"Shut up, Cora," Laura said, scowling back at Cora, "It's been a tough week. Jordan is being a little bitch about confirming a date with me, he keeps saying his boss is making him keep the weekends open in case his boss's son needs a date. Apparently the kid is dating some asshole for an Alpha."

Cora snickered into her bowl of Reese's Peanut Butter Puffs.

"Doesn't Jordan work as a deputy at the police station, Laura?"

"Yeah, I think so," Laura said, shoveling a whole Frankenstein cupcake into her mouth, "That sounds right. I might know for sure if I could get a fucking date from the man."

"So his boss would be _Sheriffi Stilinski_, then," Cora said, rolling her eyes.

Laura almost choked on the cupcake in her mouth, spitting half of the treat out onto the kitchen counter.

"I'm getting cockblocked by _Stiles Stilinski_?!" Laura screamed.

"The one and only," Cora said, "It's too bad Derek hasn't Alpha-ed up and just taken the prize."

"Well, you'd just love that, wouldn't you, Cora?" Laura asked, voice becoming suspiciously sweet, "Would you be able to stand next to me and Derek as a Best Woman #2, or would you have to cry in the pews with the regulars because of your lifelong crush on Stiles?"

"As if!" Cora yelled, "Your chances of being Derek's Best Woman are zero to none, and my crush lasted six months in high school."

Laura rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, until that Beta scared you away," Laura said.

"Shut up, Laura," Cora said, "I hadn't realized my terror potential yet. Jackson Whittemore helped shape me into the awesomeness that I am by setting an example."

"Whatever," Laura said, rolling her eyes again, "We need a new boyfriend for Stiles, so Jordan can be mine."

"Well it's not going to be, Derek," Cora said, "We'll be lucky if he gets the words together to ask Stiles out _properly_ sometime this decade."

"You know, Cora," Laura said, grinning mischievously at her, "Didn't Isaac say that the reason we're getting all these sweets is because Stiles is having relationship problems?"

"Yes…" Cora said, unsure of what point Laura was trying to make.

"I think it's time we brought in a new Alpha, one that knows what words to say," Laura said, waggling her eyebrows at Cora, "Because we'll tell him what to say."

"And where are we going to find an Alpha that agrees to that?" Cora asked, huffing as she swiped the remaining Frankenstein cupcake away from Laura.

"What about that Alpha that you helped out last summer," Laura asked, swiping a finger through the frosting of the cupcake in Cora's hand, "You know the one. You helped scare his psychotic stalker away, Erin Reyes or something."

"Erica Reyes," Cora said, rolling her eyes, "You can remember her name but not the Alpha's."

"Cora, did you see her nails?!" Laura screeched, "It was atrocious. And her hair, oh my, God. I've never smelled so much coconut oil. I don't think she realized you have to wash that out at some point."

Cora chewed thoughtfully on the cupcake in her mouth.

"Come on, Cora," Laura said, smile returning to her face, "This could be doubly beneficial for us – we get more cupcakes, because Stiles will be stressed about a new suitor, _and_ Jordan won't be able to say no to a date."

Cora nodded her head slowly.

"Okay, I'll call Boyd," Cora said, reaching for her mobile phone, "But on one condition."

Laura huffed and waited for Cora to explain her stipulation.

"I get all the buttercream cupcakes," Cora said, offering a wide smirk to Laura.

"Oh, you sneaky bitch," Laura said, narrowing her eyes at Cora, "Fine. Make the call."

Cora watched as Laura turned away from the counter, grumbling under her breath as she left the kitchen.

Cora's pretty sure she heard Laura mumble something along the lines of, "Jordan's penis better be worth this. Like big. Really fucking big, Jordan."

A small part of Cora almost felt sorry for the deputy. Almost.

* * *

Peter Hale snorted as he let himself into the Stilinski house. Isaac was right, they really didn't lock the kitchen windows – probably thinking no one would be audacious enough to break into the Sheriff's own home.

Peter could hear the faint sound of music and a soft heartbeat coming from upstairs. The song became clearer as he climbed the stairs. If this was Stiles, his taste in music was questionable. Derek definitely wouldn't be able to keep up with this.

_I love it when you call me Big Poppa. Throw your hands in the air if you's a true player. I love it when you call me Big Poppa._

Peter stepped up to the door where the music seemed to be coming from, slowly pushing the door open.

"Hey, baby," a male voice said.

Peter observed the redheaded Alpha in front of him. The Alpha laid naked in bed, surrounded by hundreds of red rose petals, and he had popped a champagne bottle as Peter entered the room. The bottle was still spewing champagne onto the bed as the Alpha began to realize Peter wasn't his baby.

"Who the fuck are you?" the Alpha asked, standing up quickly to wrap the bed sheet around his waist.

"A family acquaintance," Peter said, smirking back at the Alpha, "And you're not Stiles. Who the fuck are you?"

"Stiles's fiancé," the Alpha said, "Aiden."

Peter quirked an eyebrow at Aiden.

"Interesting," Peter said, assessing Aiden up and down.

Before Peter could continue to question Aiden, the doorbell rang downstairs.

"Let me," Peter said, "I've got pants on."

_I love it when you call me Big Poppa. Throw your hands in the air if you's a true player. I love it when you call me Big Poppa._

* * *

Scott McCall snorted as he looked up at the Stilinski house. He was meeting up with Isaac for another date, and he hadn't realized until he was looking at the house that the address Isaac gave him was also Stiles's – unless the Sheriff and Stiles had moved.

Scott rang the doorbell.

To his surprise, an older man that he had never seen before answered the door. Scott felt unsettled by the man's assessing gaze.

"Human," the man said, huffing as though he were bored.

"You must be Stiles," the man said, grabbing onto the chest of Scott's shirt and pulling him in, "Did you lock yourself out or something? You should be more careful as a human, anyone could have grabbed you out there."

Scott stared blankly at the man, wondering if this was all a joke of some kind.

"Isaac–" Scott said.

"Yes, yes," the man said, nodding his head, "I'm a family friend of his, Peter. Shall we go upstairs? You're being waited on."

"Oh," Scott said, squaring his shoulders, "Okay, cool."

"Nice," Scott said as he climbed the stairwell, "Notorious B.I.G., I didn't figure Isaac for a fan."

"Trust me," Peter said chuckling, "He's not."

Peter motioned Scott into Stiles's old room, and Scott walked in prepared to find Isaac.

"Who the fuck are you?!" a redheaded man wrapped up in a bed sheet and sitting on the bed asked.

Peter huffed from behind Scott.

"Stiles, of course," Peter said, as if the redhead was the most ignorant person he had ever met.

"That," the redhead said, standing up to point a finger at Scott, "Is _not_ my fiancé."

"Stiles is engaged?" Scott asked, heart sinking because he hadn't known that his best friend was taking such a big step in life.

_"At least he's not marrying Jackson,"_ Scott thought.

"You're not Stiles?" Peter asked, whipping Scott around to face him.

"Uh… No?" Scott said, "Does Stiles still live here? If I were him, why would I ring the doorbell?"

"Well, I don't know," Peter said, rolling his eyes, "Who am I to question the intelligence of humans."

"You're both idiots," the redhead said, "Did neither of you see all the photos of Stiles lining the stairwell on your way up here?"

"Excuse us for being a little distracted by your… For lack of a better term, music," Peter said, face scrunching into a pained look at the end of the sentence.

"Hey, _Beta_," the redhead said.

"Shh!" Peter said, glaring at the redhead, "Shut up! Someone's coming into the house."

The redhead's face pulled into a scowl.

"It sounds like the Sheriff," the redhead said.

"Sheriff Stilinski?" Scott asked, "I should go say hi to him, it's been a while."

Peter grabbed onto Scott's arm, stopping him from moving forward.

"And how will that go, 'Hey, Sheriff, sorry I didn't know you were coming, so I just let myself in'?" Peter asked.

"Hey," Scott said, glaring back at Peter, "You pulled me in. I rang the doorbell like a law abiding citizen. How did you two get in?"

Peter smirked back at Scott, while the redhead stared down at his feet.

"It sounds like he's coming upstairs," Scott said, smirking back at the pair and walking toward the door.

Scott felt himself being pulled backwards.

"Get in the closet," Peter said to the redhead, dragging Scott back with him.

"Sher–" Scott yelled.

"Shut up!" Peter whispered, covering Scott's mouth with his hand.

"I'm not hiding in the closet," the redhead said.

"Oh, so you want the Sheriff to find you naked, surrounded by rose petals, waiting for his son?" Peter asked.

The redhead gritted his teeth before moving toward the closet.

* * *

Sheriff Stilinski snorted as he watched Isaac help Stiles collect the groceries from the car. The boy looked like an overgrown puppy, tongue lolling out and everything.

The Sheriff paused as he entered the house, turning back to stick his head outside the door.

"Sounds like your alarm clock is going off or something, Stiles," the Sheriff said.

"Crap," Stiles said, "I'll go turn it off. Will you help dad unpack these groceries in the kitchen, Isaac?"

"Sure thing Papa," Isaac said.

The Sheriff quirked an eyebrow at Isaac's ridiculousness, stepping out to grab the grocery bags in Stiles's hands.

* * *

Stiles Stilinski snorted as he climbed the stairwell to his room. He hadn't listened to Notorious B.I.G. in ages, his Songza app must've been activated somehow.

_"What the hell?"_ Stiles thought, unsure where the rose petals covering every inch of his room had come from.

_"Is my bed wet?"_ Stiles thought, looking at the mess that had been a perfectly made bed only a few hours ago.

Stiles turned toward his closet at the sound of a loud smack.

His hand fell on the doorknob as he heard a loud "Ow" come from within the closet.

* * *

"Shh!" Peter whispered, "He's coming into the room." Scott rolled his eyes from the back of the closet, packed in tightly behind the two men in front of him.

"So what?" the redhead whispered, "I think my chances are better out there, this isn't the sausage fest I signed up for."

"Will you just shut up?" Peter whispered.

"And who is he again?" the redhead whispered, looking suspiciously back at Scott.

"I'm Scott," Scott whispered, offering a wide friendly smile back at the redhead.

"I still don't know who the fuck you are," the redhead whispered, "Fuck this, I'm going out there. Sheriff or no Sheriff, this is some la–"

"Oh my god, shut up!" Peter whispered, grabbing onto the back of the redheads neck.

Scott watched awkwardly as Peter pulled Stiles's fiancé's mouth against his own.

_"What the fuck?!"_ Scott whispered, whipping back quickly and hitting his head against the closet shelf.

"Ow," Scott said, rubbing at his head as the closet door opened.

"What the fuck?!" Stiles yelled.

* * *

Isaac Lahey snorted as he heard Peter arguing with Asshole Axe Alpha from upstairs.

_"This should be good,"_ Isaac thought, sitting at the kitchen island with Stiles's father.

"So how many meals would you say that you get a day living with Stiles?" Isaac asked the Sheriff.

The Sheriff quirked an eyebrow at Isaac.

"And of those, what is the frequency that they are _pre-cooked_," Isaac said, stopping to shiver at the idea, "_frozen_ meals?"

A loud thud sounded from above, followed by Stiles's raised voice.

"What's going on up there?" the Sheriff asked.

Isaac tilted his head to listen in upstairs.

"It sounds like Stiles is yelling at Asshole Axe Alpha and Asshole Uncle Peter," Isaac said, "Something about threesomes?"

The Sheriff sputtered into his lifted glass of milk.

"And I think my pen pal is up there," Isaac said, nodding his head.

"Your pen pal?" the Sheriff asked, quirking his eyebrow again.

"Yeah, he's a rehabilitated criminal," Isaac said, "I was nervous about meeting him at my house, so I gave him your address. What kind of idiot would cross the town Sheriff?"

"I see," the Sheriff said, "And who would this rehabilitated criminal be?"

"Oh," Isaac said, beaming up at the Sheriff, "Scott McCall, apparently he and Stiles used to know each other."

"Christ," the Sheriff said, reaching for a cupcake with an impressive amount of frosting piled on top of it.

"Don't worry, Sheriff," Isaac said, patting the Sheriff's free hand, "Scott really is a reformed arsonist. I left a pack of matches in front of him on a table we shared last week, he didn't even waver. I went back after we had both left – just to see if he took them. You'll be happy to know that they're in my pocket right now."

"You know, Isaac," the Sheriff said, biting into the cupcake, "You're an odd one."

"Compliment accepted, sir," Isaac said, still beaming back at the man.

The Sheriff chuckled.

* * *

"Stiles," Aiden said, rushing forward to grab onto Stiles, "This isn't what it looks like."

"Aiden," Stiles said, glaring at the Alpha, "It looks like you're naked in my room, which you have wrecked by the way. And I told you six months ago – I don't do threesomes."

"Or foursomes," Stiles said, crossing his arms to glare at the third person in the back of the closet, "Scott?"

"Hey, Stiles!" Scott said, waving as he stepped forward with a large crooked grin on his face.

"What the fuck, Aiden?" Stiles asked, turning back to the Alpha.

"Stiles, if I may–" the man that Aiden had been kissing said.

"You may not!" Stiles said, "Everybody downstairs now!"

"Damn baby," Aiden said, "I'm trying to be romantic, here! Do you not see the champagne on your nightstand? And these are real fucking rose petals – you know how much that cost?"

"Aiden," Stiles said, waving his arms around the room, "Breaking into my house and trashing my room is not romantic. And neither is Notorious B.I.G.! He's singing about grabbing a bitch!"

"That's romantic, baby!" Aiden yelled, throwing is arms up wildly.

"Grab your pants, asshole," Stiles said, moving toward the open bedroom door.

* * *

Derek snorted as his Beta, Isaac, opened the front door of the Stilinski house.

_"I guess I know now which bakery he's been going to,"_ Derek thought.

"Alpha!" Isaac said, pulling Derek into the house, "What a nice surprise. Are those flowers for Martha?"

Derek looked down at the flowers and box of chocolates in his hands.

"Uh… Yeah," Derek said.

"Alpha Derek?" Stiles asked, walking down the stairs toward Derek.

Derek smiled up at Stiles, walking forward to meet Stiles at the end of the stairs.

"Stiles, I brought you these," Derek said, lifting the gifts, "I think I have a few things to apologize for on behalf of my family."

"More than you know, nephew," Peter said.

Derek watched as Peter walked down the stairs behind Stiles, followed by a dopey looking human with a crooked smile, and the asshole Alpha pursuing Stiles.

"Peter?" Derek asked, "What are you doing here?"

"That's a really good question, Derek," Stiles said, glaring up at Derek's uncle, "One we're about to find the answer to – everyone in the living room."

"Now!" Stiles yelled, crossing his arms in front of his torso, the group clearly not moving fast enough for his liking.

* * *

Stiles watched as Isaac led Aiden, Peter, and Scott into the living room.

Stiles glared at the cupcake in his father's hand as the Sheriff made his way out of the kitchen and into the living room.

"Don't judge me, son," the Sheriff said, "Your company is making me stress eat."

"Mmhmm," Stiles said, turning back to Derek, "Thank you for the gifts, Alpha Derek. Why don't you stay, maybe you can help sort all this–"

Stiles was stopped by the doorbell. He offered Derek an apologetic look before moving to the door.

"Stiles!" Laura Hale yelled, standing in front of the door with Cora Hale and a dark skinned man that Stiles had never seen before.

"Laura?" Derek asked, stepping next to Stiles and glaring at his sister, "Cora?! What are you doing here?"

"Uh…" Cora said.

"We brought Stiles an Alpha," Laura said, glaring back at Derek before turning a smile toward Stiles, "Stiles, meet Boyd – a totally available and smoking hot man with his own apartment _and_ a bank account."

"What?" both Derek and Stiles asked simultaneously.

The Alpha, Boyd, moved forward to take one of Stiles's hands.

"Stiles," Boyd said, "It would be my honor to court you, I have heard so many good things – from your amazing baking skills, your professional police career, to your witty sense of humor. Please allow me the opportunity to show you why I would make a good mate. I can give you the moon and the star–"

"What the fuck, Boyd?" a blonde woman with long dreadlocks asked, stepping onto the Stilinski's porch, "You're two timing me for _this_?! He's not even wearing anything hemp! God damn it, he probably shops at Walmart! How can you love someone with no soul?!"

Stiles stared dumbly at the group in front of him, truly at a loss for words. Derek on the other hand seemed to be seething, breaths deepening and chest heaving. Stiles tried not to stare at the Alpha's chest.

"Everyone," Derek bit out, "In. The. Living. Room. Now!"

"You can't boss m–" Laura said.

"I said now!" Derek growled.

"Okay, okay," Laura said, moving between Derek and Stiles into the house, "You shouldn't glare like that Derry, your face will get stuck in that sour position."

Cora smiled politely at Stiles as she followed behind Laura. Boyd smirked at Derek as he entered, purposefully bumping shoulders with the other Alpha. The blonde simply glared at Stiles.

"Erica Reeses?" Isaac yelled from the living room, "What are you doing here?!"

Stiles rolled his eyes as he shut the front door, following Derek into the living room.


	11. Highly Suspicious

Derek Hale narrowed his eyes at his Beta, Isaac, as the Beta stood in front of the large group sitting in the Stilinski's living room – the only barrier between the group sitting down and Derek and Stiles Stilinski still standing near the doorway.

"You guys," Isaac said, huge grin on his face, "This is just like a _party_! We should make it a sleepover party, like the kind I always wanted when I was a little kid. Except with Asshole Uncle Peter. But better because it's catered by Papa Martha. Which reminds me, can I get anyone a water? Or maybe a coffee, tea? Martha is especially good at making both."

"Oh!" Laura Hale said, raising her hand, "Yes, please. Coffee, with one of those buttercream cupcakes, please and thank you."

"You agreed those were mine, bitch!" Cora Hale said, pulling Laura into a headlock.

"Is it fair trade coffee?" Erica Reyes asked.

"I'll take a coffee, Isaac," Peter Hale said, smirking up at the Beta, "Black, like I prefer my souls."

"We should play a game!" the human with the dopey smile and crooked jaw said.

"Yes!" Isaac said, clapping his hands frantically.

"Okay!" Stiles said, guiding Isaac back to the love seat, "I've got a game – it's called 'Tell Me Why You're Here', and you play it without any beverages or snacks."

Derek surveyed the group in front of him. Packed begrudgingly onto the large sofa sat the dopey human, Peter, Cora, and Laura. Isaac shared the love seat with Sheriff Stilinski, while Erica and Boyd took the remaining two chairs next to the coffee table. That left the shirtless redheaded Asshole Alpha to lean against the wall next to the sofa.

Derek glared especially hard in the Alpha's direction.

"Now," Stiles said, "Who would like to start?"

"Well, it's–" one voice said.

"I'm here because–" said another at the same time.

"We came to–" said a third voice, also at the same time.

"One at a time!" Derek growled, letting red seep into his eyes as he stared at the group.

"Thank you, Alpha Derek," Stiles said, "Why don't we start with who was here first. That would be right after I left for the grocery store with my father and Isaac."

At the mention of his name, Isaac beamed up at Stiles.

"Okay," Peter said, grinning widely, "That would be Free Willy in the corner."

"Man," Asshole Alpha said, "Fuck you, too, _Beta_."

"Aiden!" Stiles said, "Cut the crap, were you here first?"

"Yes, Aiden," the Sheriff said, voice booming, "I would like to know that, too, as well as _how_ you got in."

Derek shivered at the authority in Sheriff Stilinski's voice. A small part of him felt sympathetic for _Aiden_, living life on the bad side of that man could not be easy.

Aiden glared at the Sheriff before turning back to Stiles.

"Baby," Aiden said, stepping up to Stiles, "I know things are a little rough between us right now, but I came to smooth them over. That's why I got the rose petals, and the champagne, I was trying to create a special romantic night for you."

All of Derek's sympathy for the Alpha evaporated. Sheriff Stilinski's hands were twitching as they settled into closed fists.

_"Kill him, Sheriff,"_ Derek thought, trying to transmit his thoughts to the man, _"Kill him. I'll help you hide the body."_

"Aiden," Stiles said, "Our time is over, I've told you that several times before, but I guess not strongly enough. So please get out of my house, forget you know my phone number, and kindly _fuck_ off."

"Yes!" Isaac and the Sheriff exclaimed, bumping knuckles from the cramped space of the love seat.

Aiden glared back at Stiles, and then he turned his glare to Derek. The Alpha let loose a snort before lunging toward Derek.

Before Aiden could unsheathe his claws, Derek had the Alpha by the throat, and lifted off his feet. Derek walked the Alpha over to the front door, opening it with his other hand.

"If I ever see your motorcycle near the Stilinski's house again, or following Stiles, you're going to find out whether it fits inside your body," Derek growled before throwing the Alpha out of the house.

Derek paused as he returned to the living room, noticing that Stiles seemed to be staring at his… Arms? Chest?

_"Maybe Isaac was right about the tank,"_ Derek thought, letting a small smirk form on his face.

Isaac threw two thumbs up at Derek, while the Sheriff seemed to roll his eyes and push Isaac's hands down.

"Right…" Stiles said, clearing his throat and turning back to the group, "Okay, Peter? I assume you were second, since you knew Aiden was first."

"Unfortunately," Peter said, mouthing forming into a pout, "I was bested into the house. Did you know you don't lock your kitchen windows? Very dangerous for a human."

The Sheriff cleared his throat loudly, scowling back at Peter.

"Right," Peter chuckled, "Well, I just thought I would come introduce myself to the talk of the Hale house – and Derek's house – but I found Big Willy and this dope over here instead."

"Hey!" the dopey looking human said, "First of all, you dragged me into the house!"

"You were third, Scott?" Stiles asked.

"Yes," Scott said, turning away from Peter, "I was meeting Isaac here, he gave me this address for our date."

"Date?" Stiles asked, looking toward Isaac.

"Ha, ha," Isaac laughed nervously, "Um… Yes?"

"Okay, Scott," Stiles said, "Well, I think your date has been rescheduled?"

Stiles turned back to Isaac for confirmation.

"Yeah," Isaac said, rubbing the back of his neck, "Sorry, Scott. I'll call you later."

"No worries," Scott said, smiling at both Isaac and Stiles, "This was kind of fun. Thanks for having me. I'll see you later, Isaac. You should call me, too, Stiles."

Scott stood up from the sofa and made his way to the front door to exit the house.

"I'd like to take these two," Derek said, glaring down at Cora and Laura, "Since I think we know how everything else played out."

"Don't be so dramatic, Derry," Laura said, grinning up at him, "We were just trying to help."

"No," Derek growled, "What you were trying to do was create problems. Now can you explain why you brought an Alpha to Stiles?"

"Uh…" Laura said, clearly unsure of how to communicate her mission.

"Well," Cora said, "We just thought that you were going to take ages to ask Stiles out, so… We thought we might have some baked goods to gain in the interim?"

"Baked goods," Derek repeated, glare morphing into a raised brow of confusion.

"Well," Sheriff Stilinski said, rising to his feet and grabbing onto Isaac's arm, "That's our cue to go! Looks like you two have this all in capable hands. Isaac and I made plans to exercise in the park."

"Sit down, old man," Stiles said, glaring at the Sheriff, "Or your turkey bacon goes home with Erica."

Derek has never seen a more pure look of terror cross someone's face before.

_"Am I afraid of the wrong Stilinski?"_ Derek thought, shivering slightly.

"Cora," Stiles said, stepping forward and smiling down at Derek's sister, "What do you mean you had baked goods to gain by bringing me an Alpha?"

"Uh…" Cora said, losing her own ability to put thoughts together.

"It was all Isaac!" Laura yelled, "He hatched the idea!"

"Yes," Cora and Peter said unison, nodding their heads frantically.

"Isaac?" Derek asked, looking at his Beta, who was staring down at his sneakers, suspiciously _not_ looking at anyone.

"It wasn't Isaac's idea," the Sheriff said, sighing as he stood up, "It was mine."

"No Sheriff, no!" Isaac said, rising to his feet with the Sheriff.

"Isaac, stop," the Sheriff said, "I appreciate you looking out for me, son, but it's time to fess up. Stiles, I've been unfair to both you and all things baked with sugar."

"I encouraged you into a stress-induced baking frenzy by not stepping up sooner to help you sort through your many," the Sheriff paused to raise an eyebrow at Derek, "_many_ suitors. And I left that cupcake cookbook on your desk at work in the hopes that you would bake your feelings. I turned baking into a weapon, and I am ashamed of my actions."

"Sheriff," Isaac said, eye brimming with tears.

"It's all right, Isaac," Stiles said, face showing no particular emotion, "Dad, we'll discuss this later, after everyone else has left."

Derek noticed that Stiles's response did not seem to calm the Sheriff, if anything it made him more visibly upset.

"Alpha Boyd," Stiles said, turning to the Alpha, "I think you can see that your services are no longer needed, which – if I'm understanding this correctly – means yours aren't either, Erica. Have a pleasant afternoon."

"Come on, sugar," Erica said, smiling widely as she stood up and reached a hand out to Boyd.

"Thanks for nothing, Cora," Boyd said, huffing and rolling his eyes as he stood up.

Boyd ignored Erica's hand as he walked forward to leave the living room. He stopped as he reached the entrance.

"Sheriff," Boyd said, "If you're still alive Monday morning, I would like to discuss the topic of restraining orders with you. Stiles, if you're still single Monday afternoon, I would still like to take you to lunch."

Derek growled as the Alpha winked at Stiles before exiting the house.

"Vernon!" Erica yelled, following after the Alpha, "You don't mean that!"

"Oh, I should come over here every afternoon," Peter said, chuckling.

"All Hales front and center," Derek said, throwing in a growl for good measure, "Now!"

Cora and Laura jumped to their feet to stand in front of Derek, Peter walked slowly to stand to the side, posture slouched to show his boredom.

"You, too, Isaac," Derek said, "You're an honorary Hale."

Isaac practically tripped over his feet to stand proudly next to Cora, positively beaming. Derek had never seen someone so excited to be punished before.

"You," Derek said, glaring into the eyes of each Hale in front of him, "Are not to bother Stiles again unless he requests your presence."

"But–" Isaac and Cora said.

"No!" Derek said, "You will apologize to him for your poor behavior, and you will walk out of this house to rejoin at the Hale house. It's time Talia learned about your recent activities."

Laura and Peter rolled their eyes, while Cora simply frowned. Isaac looked near tears again.

"Sorry, Stiles," Cora and Laura said stepping forward to acknowledge Stiles and then exited the house together.

"Creepy," Stiles mouthed toward Derek.

Derek snorted.

"If I must," Peter said, stepping forward in front of Stiles, "I will say that I am sorry, Stiles. Though what I'm sorry for, I'm not quite sure. This was all thoroughly entertaining, and I _would_ do it again given the opportunity."

Derek cleared his throat behind Peter.

"Unfortunately," Peter said, "Our opportunities have run out, so good day."

The Sheriff took it upon himself to personally walk Peter out of the house, and Isaac ran forward to pull Stiles into a bone crushing hug.

"I'm so sorry, Stiles," Isaac said, "I am really, really, really sorry. I hope you can forgive me, Papa Martha."

"It's okay, Isaac," Stiles said, patting the Beta's back, "I do forgive you, and we'll see each other again soon, I'm sure."

"Okay," Isaac said, smile starting to form on his face again, "I'll see you at the Hale house, Alpha."

Derek and Stiles watched as Isaac ran out of the living room.

"So…" Stiles said, stepping closer to Derek.

"So…" Derek repeated, stepping closer as well.

"Thanks for helping me back there," Stiles said, "And for the flowers you brought me. Hydrangeas are actually a favorite of mine, so you got lucky there."

Before Derek could respond, a throat cleared behind the pair, causing them to jump apart.

Derek looked up to see a redheaded woman standing next to a smartly dressed Beta.

"Hello, Stiles," the redhead said, dark sunglasses hanging from a well manicured hand brought up to her chin, "I thought it was time to come visit, since you so rudely kept ending our phone calls prematurely."

"Unfortunately," the redhead continued, nodding toward the Beta, "I found your puppy outside."

"Stiles," the Beta said, "When are you going to get rid of this bitch? She clashes with the whole decor of the house."

"Take that back!" the redhead yelled.

"Make me," the Beta growled.

"Laugh while you can, Benji," the redhead said, smirking, "I have video evidence of our last sleepover here. Picture you all cuddled up with a pillow on Stiles's bed, professing your undying love to down feathers. You even made out with it!"

"At least I'd rather kiss a pillow than a Greenberg," the Beta said, smirking now as well.

"Stiles!" the redhead gasped, "You promised!"

"Uh…" Stiles said, watching the two settle into battle stances, "I think I have a few things left to take care of, but maybe we can see each other again soon? Discuss those flowers, or school, or me scratching your car?"

Derek winced at the mention of the scratch to his car. He had decided to leave it on the hood until he knew where he stood with Stiles – a constant reminder of his goal. The "SHIT DRIVER" scratch he had removed the first day, but he was convinced that he could still see it if he squinted.

"Sure," Derek said, nodding his head, "I would like that, I'll just go check in at Hale house. My family will leave you alone, unless you ask them not to, from now on."

* * *

Derek stood in the middle of the Hale house kitchen, glaring at the tower of cupcakes, muffins, and small cakes spread out on the counter.

"Derek, honey," Talia Hale said, standing in front of the joined Hale family, "Is this really necessary?"

Derek nodded his head to the ridiculous pile of baked goods.

"Okay," Talia said, sighing.

"You will not bother the Stilinski family," Talia said, eyes crimson and voice full of Alpha will, "You will not call, email, text, physically visit, write, or otherwise attempt communication with Stiles Stilinski. If you see him walking on the street, you will immediately turn in the other direction. Do not engage him unless he initiates contact with you."

"Dibs on the remaining buttercream cupcakes!" Laura yelled, running toward the baked goods.

"In your dreams," Cora said, tripping Laura to the ground.

Derek watched as Laura reached up to yank on Cora's hair, pulling her down to the ground.

As he watched the two fight each other to move toward the counter, Derek grabbed a cupcake from the pile and bit into it.

Derek thought things might just be going his way for once. He allowed himself to smirk as he savored the fluffy buttercream filling.

* * *

He may have thought so before, but Stiles Stilinski truly was having the strangest week of his life.

Boyd did come in on Monday morning to file a restraining order against Erica Reyes, the blonde obviously in tow for stalking purposes. As the Alpha left, he tried to wager a date from Stiles by offering up his 2014 Jaguar F-Type.

Then, as Stiles was leaving the public library on Tuesday afternoon, Laura Hale almost caused a five car pile up by sprinting away from Stiles. He's pretty sure she had originally been headed for the library, too, making it all the more confusing why she turned around.

Stiles hadn't seen much of Isaac around the house that week, which might explain why the Sheriff kept leaving the house at odd hours of the day – and speaking of his emotional traitor of a father, the man was on a strict no salt, no sugar diet for the rest of the month to make up for unfairly using sugar as a weapon for personal gain.

Stiles had seen more of Scott, though, surprisingly his former best friend made a daily effort to call or text Stiles. They weren't as close as they once were, and they probably wouldn't ever be, but it was nice to make amends.

Lydia had decided to stay for the week at the Stilinski house, and that in itself was the stuff of nightmares for Stiles. Lydia had already cleaned out half his closet under the guise of "reorganizing" it, and she had forced Stiles to explain how he met the Hale family. After explaining the parts involving Jackson, Stiles was certain that he would be hearing, "I told you so," for the rest of their friendship.

The oddest part came yesterday, Thursday morning, when he found a medium sized box on the doorstep of his house, left without a note and unsigned. It contained what looked like parts of Aiden's motorcycle. Hundreds of small parts.

Stiles was pulled out of his thoughts as someone approached his work desk.

"Hey," Derek Hale said, a beautiful white smile shining back at him, "Ready to go?"

And that was the sweet part of his week. Alpha Derek had shown up everyday with flowers and lunch in hand.

"Yeah," Stiles said, grinning back at the Alpha, "Let me just tell my dad we're off to lunch."

* * *

Derek awoke to the sound of tapping on glass and harsh whispering from the hallway outside his bedroom. Blinking his eyes open, he looked around his old room in the Hale house for the alarm clock on the nightstand. It read 2:08AM.

For the past week, Derek had decided it was best for him and Isaac to stay at the Hale house. That way Derek could keep an eye on his family members – ensuring that they left Stiles alone, and, more importantly, ensured that Derek knew their whereabouts while he tried to woo Stiles.

"Don't you dare!" Laura Hale yelled from the hallway.

Derek rolled his eyes as he made to get up from his warm bed. He had been having such a good dream, too, about an alternative ending to his lunch that afternoon with Stiles. Where Stiles was a lot less dressed, and a lot less hungry for actual food.

* * *

Laura Hale narrowed her eyes at her sister, as she watched Cora hunch over on the small balcony of the upper floor of the Hale house. Laura had gotten up in the night for a drink of water, but instead found this highly suspicious activity.

Laura pounded on the glass door, causing Cora to turn out of shock, and that's when Laura saw what Cora was hiding: buttercream. Buttercream all over her mouth.

"You little bitch," Laura growled, pounding on the glass door again.

"Sorry," Cora said, stuffing the rest of the cupcake into her mouth, "Can't hear you out here."

"Cora Hale!" Laura said, "I swear to God, if you have another one of those and don't share with me, I will…"

"What?" Cora asked tauntingly, "Cry? I hid that one well, big sister, and my guess is that even if I were hiding more, you wouldn't even know where to begin looking."

Laura glared back at Cora, realizing her sister was right. The little bitch was too good at hiding things around the Hale house. But then Laura smiled, realizing she had one card left to play.

"Have fun sleeping out there," Laura said, reaching down to lock the glass door.

"Oo," Cora said, smirking, "So mean, August is so cold – said no one ever. Besides, I could just jump off the balcony. Broken bones heal, Laur."

"Well lets see if it heals by the time I'm done trashing your room, Cor," Laura said, smirking back.

"Do it," Cora said, glaring back at Laura as she reached into the pocket of her night robe, "And the rest of this muffin dies. Unless you want to lick it off the gravel below."

Cora pulled out half of what looked like one of Stiles's apple zucchini muffins, holding it over the balcony.

"Don't you dare!" Laura screamed.

"What is going on out here?!" Derek Hale asked, coming up to the balcony window.

"Go back to bed, Derry," Laura said, "This doesn't concern you."

"Derek, help!" Cora said, sinking to her knees and putting on her best puppy eyes, "Laura is tormenting me, you know what she's like! Make her let me back in, Der!"

"You locked her outside?!" Derek asked Laura.

"Derek!" Laura yelled, giving Derek her clearest 'are you fucking insane?' look, "She has _the last muffin_!"

"Muffin?" Derek asked, face scrunching into a confused scowl before widening into one of laughter, "You locked her outside for a muffin? You two are literally crazy. Cuckoo. You need day jobs. Oh, my, God!"

Laura watched as Derek fell against the wall from laughter.

"Laura," Derek said, finally straightening, "Let her in, come on."

"No, Derek, go away," Laura said, guarding the lock with her body.

Laura felt herself picked up into the air, as Derek worked an arm around her to unlock the door.

"Hey, shh!" Laura said, "Do you hear that?"

"Hear what?" Derek asked, stepping back to let Cora back into the hallway.

"Why are you children up, disturbing my sleep?" Peter Hale asked, stepping out of his bedroom with a glare.

Isaac Lahey stuck his head out of the guest room, a look of confusion on his face.

"Shh!" Laura said, "Listen."

Laura focused her senses on the Hale house. Somewhere, nearby, was the sound of running tap water, but also chewing. Joyful chewing. Laura could tell from their facial expressions that Cora and Derek could hear it, too.

Peter gave a sigh as Laura pointed at the bathroom near the end of the hall. The Hale members moved quietly toward the door.

Derek grabbed a hold of the doorknob, turning back to the group with three fingers lifted into the air. He counted them down to one before throwing the door open.

"Mom?!" Cora, Derek, and Laura cried together.

"Alpha Hale?" Isaac asked.

Talia Hale sat on the toilet next to the sink, faucet clearly running to hide her glee as she tore into the small cake in her hands. Her mouth was covered in frosting.

"Uh…" Talia said, "This isn't what it looks like?"

"Well, I should hope not, mother," Derek said, reaching out to grab the cake from Talia's hands, "Because this looks shameful."

"Right, guys?" Derek asked, turning to the group.

Cora, Isaac, Laura, and Peter watched Derek's hands with interested eyes.

"Guys?" Derek asked, a nervous expression settling over his face.

"Get it!" Cora yelled.

"That cake is mine, Derry!" Laura yelled, lunging forward.

Before Derek could turn to run down the stairs exiting the hallway, Cora, Isaac, Laura, Peter, and Talia all piled on top of Derek.

Laura heard Isaac offer a muffled apology to Derek somewhere from within the pile.

"I'm sorry, Alpha, but all's fair in love and food," Isaac said.


	12. Help Me Lose My Mind

Derek Hale blinked his eyes open slowly as a new weight shifted onto his bed. His old room at Hale house was mostly dark, except for the soft glow of sunlight coming through the cream curtains of the window directly across from his bed – which also happened to illuminate freaking Stiles Stilinski sitting on his knees in front of Derek.

"Stiles?" Derek asked, "What are you doing here?"

"I couldn't wait anymore, _Alpha_," Stiles said, voice surprisingly thick.

At the emphasis on Derek's Alpha title, and the sexy way Stiles bit his own bottom lip, Derek was now fully awake.

"Uh…" Derek said, still trying to understand whether or not what he wanted to happen was actually happening.

Stiles chuckled and then started to unbutton his oversized plaid shirt.

"Is that…" Derek said, voice cracking, "Is that _my_ shirt?"

"Wait until you see what else I'm wearing, Alpha," Stiles said, still laughing at Derek as he reached down to unbutton his jeans.

Derek is pretty sure time had stopped moving. Stiles's hands seemed to move in slow motion, and Derek didn't think he could watch without embarrassing himself. But he also couldn't bring himself to close his eyes or look away, especially when he saw those fingers slide into the band of a white jock strap, a light dusting of hair peeking out at him. And that was definitely Derek's jock strap.

"Fuck," Derek whispered, "Is that my – Oh, my God."

Derek's heart was racing, and he felt sweat trickle down his chest. The room had become excruciatingly warm.

"Alpha," Stiles said.

Derek closed his eyes, this was all too much. His shorts were ridiculously strained, and he could feel the comforter move against him with every shift of his body.

"Alpha," Stiles said, voice more demanding.

"Fuck!" Derek yelled, shorts filling with a wet heat.

Derek took a moment to pause before opening his eyes again.

"Alpha," Stiles repeated.

Derek looked up at Stiles, feeling dazed.

"Alpha," Stiles said again.

Except Stiles didn't say that, because that wasn't Stiles's voice. That was definitely Stiles's mouth moving, but not his voice.

"Alpha," the non-Stiles voice said again.

That voice sounded more like… Derek's Beta, Isaac.

"Alpha!" Isaac Lahey yelled.

Derek felt an elbow come crashing down onto his ribcage, forcing him to blink his eyes open and realize that Stiles had been a dream. A really sticky dream.

"Fuck!" Derek yelled, waiting for the pain of Isaac's bodily harm to pass.

"Alpha, wake up!" Isaac said, "It's the big day – Beacon Hunger Relief! The Hale dream team for the win!"

Isaac twisted his face into a scrunch as he scented the air.

"I think you need to shower though, Alpha," Isaac said, face still scrunched.

Derek covered his face with his hands and groaned.

* * *

Isaac Lahey blinked his eyes into the sunlight coming through the floor-to-ceiling windows near the snack machine at the community center hosting Beacon Hunger Relief. He yawned as he watched Sheriff Stilinski feed coins into the machine.

"Hey! Stop that!" the Sheriff said, whipping his head back and forth suspiciously, "What kind of lookout are you, son? This is how I catch the bad guys, their lookout is usually napping in the car."

"Don't worry, Sheriff," Isaac said, patting the paranoid man's back, "Stiles is all tied up walking Derek through the can collection table."

"Aha!" the Sheriff said, proudly holding up a small packet of peanut M&amp;Ms, "Shouldn't they be done with that by now? You guys got here half an hour ago."

"Yeah, well," Isaac said, chuckling, "Alpha Derek keeps blushing the whole time and having to ask for repeat instructions. He seemed distracted this morning when I woke him up."

"Hmm," the Sheriff said, popping an M&amp;M into his mouth and offering the bag to Isaac, "I like Derek, he seems like a good man. A challenged man, but a good one. His sisters though, Lord help us."

Isaac nodded his head knowingly.

"One of my deputies has been asking me every week for almost a year if Stiles had weekend plans or was over Aiden yet," the Sheriff said, shaking his head in amusement, "I think Laura has been trying to pressure him into a date. Last Monday she sent me a letter telling me it was unlawful to pimp my deputy out to my son, something about keeping his weekends booked. She said she was going to find a lawyer to investigate for her."

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that, Sheriff," Isaac said, nodding toward Laura Hale latched onto Deputy Parrish at the information table, "I think Stiles helped you out there."

Both men laughed as Deputy Parrish mouthed 'Help Me' toward them.

"Sheriff, why do you eat this stuff?" Isaac asked, pushing the bag back to the Sheriff, "Stiles clearly doesn't like it, and you get way better homemade food at home."

"Veggies, son," the Sheriff said, shivering slightly, "I get vegetables at home. There's no sugar in vegetables."

"Yeah, but those scrambled egg muffins you guys brought in this morning were the bomb!" Isaac said, closing his eyes to reminisce his second breakfast that morning.

"Those were not muffins, son," the Sheriff said, "No muffin should have spinach in it."

Isaac shrugged his shoulders as the pair walked back over to their designated station, the clothing drive table.

"Hey," the Sheriff said, turning toward Isaac, "What does it mean when you text me those letters, F-T-W together?"

* * *

"No," Derek said, glaring at the box of cans in front of him, held by Asshole Uncle Peter.

"Now, now, nephew," Peter said, "Beggars can't be choosers, I scrounged these up from around the house. Besides, I thought you needed cans, don't you want to impress your little baking mate?"

"Not with," Derek said, reaching into the box and pulling out a dented can of beets, "Damaged goods, Peter. Beat it."

"You wound, Derry," Peter said, pulling his face into a pout, "You don't want me to report you for bad customer service now do you? What kind of can drive turns away canned food?"

Derek let loose a sigh before grabbing onto the box, offering his most insincere smile.

"Thank you for your donation to Beacon Hunger Relief," Derek said with false cheer, "Don't forget that every donor receives a ticket into the raffle for a new KitchenAid mixer. The winner will be announced at 2:30PM, right here in this room."

"Oo," Peter said, latching onto the ticket Derek had started to tear from the packet, "What color is it?"

"What?" Derek asked, scrunching his face in confusion.

"What color is the KitchenAid?" Peter asked, clearly exasperated.

"I don't know," Derek said, shrugging his shoulders, "It's a mixer color."

"Somedays I really doubt our familial relation, nephew," Peter said, rolling his eyes.

"I wish, asshole," Derek muttered as he watched Peter walk away, "I wish."

Derek placed Peter's box of damaged goods underneath the table, thinking that maybe he could toss them without anyone noticing later.

Derek looked back out into the crowd as he stood up, and then he narrowed his eyes as Alpha Boyd approached the can collection table. The Alpha carried two large boxes in each arm.

"Show off," Derek snorted, rolling his eyes.

"Hey, _Alpha_," Alpha Boyd said, smirking at Derek, "Make sure Stiles gets these, will you?"

Derek glared at the labels on the side of the boxes, they read, 'Donated by Alpha Vernon Boyd'.

"Is that your phone number?!" Derek asked disbelievingly.

"Stiles already has it," Alpha Boyd said, nodding his head, "But I wanted to be extra sure. I know how busy your family has been terrorizing him and all."

"Hey, Erica!" Derek said, offering a huge grin and wide wave into the crowd behind Alpha Boyd.

"Shit!" Alpha Boyd said, crouching down to the ground, "Did she see me? Is she coming over?"

Derek pretended to observe the crowd, finally catching blonde dreadlocks headed toward the side exit of the building.

"Yup," Derek said, keeping his heart calm has best he could, "Wow, she can move. Does she run track or something?"

"Oh, my god," Alpha Boyd whispered.

"You better run, bud," Derek said, nodding his head and pointing toward the exit that Erica had taken, "There's a side exit out to the parking lot over there."

"Thanks, man," Alpha Boyd said, crawling underneath the tables to make his way over to the exit, "I owe you."

Derek smirked as he transferred all of Alpha Boyd's cans into one large box and dumped Asshole Uncle Peter's damaged cans into the boxes marked with Alpha Boyd's information. As he lifted a black marker to write his own initials on the new box, Derek chuckled, thinking that maybe Asshole Uncle Peter _could_ be useful. Sometimes.

* * *

Stiles Stilinski blinked is eyes in the harsh light of the broom closet he had suddenly been pulled into. He looked around the small area only to find Beta Jackson Whittemore standing next to him.

"Jackson!" Stiles yelled, "What the fuck? You almost gave me a heart attack grabbing me like that."

"I know, I know, and I'm sorry," Jackson said, nodding his head, "But this couldn't wait. I couldn't go the whole day without getting this part over with."

"Okay…" Stiles said, nervous about what Jackson wanted to discuss.

"Look, Stiles," Jackson said, lifting a hand to rub at the back of his neck, "I'm really sorry that I've been kind of M.I.A. lately–"

"It's okay, Jackson," Stiles said, nodding his head, "I get it. You said you needed space, space given. No questions asked."

"No, that's not it," Jackson said, shaking his head, "I accept that you don't want me the same way I want you – well, no, that's bullshit. I don't accept it, and I think you're really dumb for not choosing me, especially for an Alpha that you've barely known for, what? A month, two months?"

"Is there a point here, Jackson?" Stiles asked.

"Okay, okay," Jackson said, lifting his hands, "I don't get it entirely, but I do understand wanting to protect the friendship that we have. You're my best friend, and I don't want to diminish that. So, I decided to check out this new Alpha that you've got your sights set on."

"Jackson," Stiles said, "We're not even really dating, Alpha Derek came on a little strong in the beginning, but he's been letting things happen more naturally lately. We're just friends right now."

"Whatever," Jackson said, "It's just a matter of time. You know it, and I know it. The guy practically drools every time you walk in front of him."

"Hey!" Stiles yelled.

"Anyways," Jackson said, rolling his eyes, "Hard up as he may be, he checked out."

"What?" Stiles asked.

"He's okay," Jackson said, shrugging his shoulders, "He went to school to study business management, he did some art on the side, I think graphic design surprisingly. He graduated early, good grades. His dating history is a little blonde and ditzy, but clearly his tastes have matured. His family is terrifying, but generally supportive – and definitely financially secure. He moved back to Beacon Hills at the start of the summer, his annoying Beta in tow – whom he _bit_ to escape an abusive father. Isaac was fifteen at the time, so that bit about meeting in Portland two years ago was bullshit. But Isaac obviously lied for a good reason."

"Oh," Stiles said, elated to hear such good things about Alpha Derek, but saddened to find out some of Isaac's backstory, especially without the Beta's permission.

"Point being," Jackson said, squaring his shoulders and letting loose a deep sigh, "I approve. You have my blessing to pursue this Alpha. Whatever happens between you two is up to you, and I won't interfere like I did with _Aiden_."

"Jackson…" Stiles said, tearing up a little at the sweet – somewhat misguided, but overall sweet – gesture from his friend.

"Yeah, yeah," Jackson said, rolling his eyes, "Don't linger on it. Just know that if this Alpha fucks up, I will ruin his life. And I'll be here for you no matter what. I'm not giving up on our friendship, so I hope you won't either."

"Never!" Stiles said, pulling Jackson into a hug, "Bros for life, man!"

The pair were interrupted by the closet door opening.

"Stiles, I thought I saw you duck in here–" Cora Hale said, pausing as she looked at Jackson with wide eyes, "Uh… Hi, Jackson."

"Hey, Cora," Stiles said, smiling, "We were just having a friend moment, but I'm glad to see that you remember Jackson from school."

"Hey, Cora," Jackson said, offering a nod, "We better get back out there, Stiles."

Stiles chuckled as he watched Cora blush as Jackson walked passed her. Maybe there was more than one Hale seeking a happy ending here.

Stiles looked around the center for Alpha Derek, finding the Alpha cringing as he reached down to offer raffle tickets to some extremely sticky, sugar coated hands of three small children in front of the table. The Alpha looked terrified, which only made Stiles chuckle more.

Maybe Stiles was losing his mind, but the sleazy Alpha that had approached him after the park was definitely not the Alpha in front of him today. Alpha Derek was cute. In a hopeless kind of way.

* * *

Stiles let loose a deep sigh as he sank into his bed the night following Beacon Hunger Relief. The event had been a huge success, and Stiles really owed a lot of the donor and volunteer help to the Hales. Maybe he would send them a thank you basket of baked goods.

"Hey, Stiles?" his father asked, knocking on the open door while sticking his head into the room at the same time, "What does I-D-G-A-F mean in text language?"

"Dad, who sent you that?" Stiles asked, narrowing his eyes at his father.

"Peter Hale," his father said, squinting at the screen on his mobile phone, "There's a number sign in front of the letters, does that make a difference?"

"Dad, why is Peter Hale texting you?" Stiles asked.

"I have friends, son," the Sheriff said, faking mock hurt, "Now answer the question, I usually ask Isaac, but he's busy right now."

"Doing what?" Stiles asked.

"Probably eating something nice with salt or sugar in it," his father said, offering a frown to Stiles.

"Suck it up, old man," Stiles said, feeling no sympathy for his father at all, "You know how you received that punishment, and you've only got two weeks left. Deal."

"W-E, Stiles," his father said, smirking, "I'll just ask Google if you're too busy to help me."

"You do that, dad," Stiles said, turning to his own mobile phone that had vibrated with a new text message. It was from Isaac, asking if the Beta could come over to the house.

Just after Stiles had responded yes, but that it was a little late, Stiles looked up to a knock on his bedroom window. There sat Isaac, waiting on the roof ledge in front of the window, rain pouring down on the Beta.

"Isaac!" Stiles yelled, moving to open the window quickly, "What are you doing out there? Why didn't you just use the front door?"

"I wanted to be sure you were here," Isaac said, pulling Stiles into a wet hug, "I know that the Hales are on strict instructions to avoid you as best possible – though I think Alpha Talia lifted that rule for Beacon Hunger Relief – she's not technically my Alpha. I got tired of waiting to run into you."

"You're ridiculous, Isaac," Stiles said, shaking his head, "And you're extremely soaked, let's get you some dry clothes."

Stiles shook his head as Isaac dove into Stiles's closet. Isaac reappeared just as Stiles made himself comfortable back in bed. The Beta stood anxiously at the foot of the bed, watching Stiles closely.

"Come on," Stiles said, rolling his eyes and lifting the comforter up.

"Really?!" Isaac asked, though the pants he had chosen were already halfway off.

"Really," Stiles said, shaking his head, "We can have that sleepover you wanted to have last week."

"This is so exciting," Isaac said, settling in next to Stiles, "Are these your pajamas? So soft, Papa Martha. And very fashionable."

Stiles noticed that Isaac moved closer to Stiles as the thunder rolled above them.

"Is everything okay, Isaac?" Stiles asked, "You kind of showed up out of the blue."

"Uh…" Isaac said, face settling onto Stiles's chest.

Stiles thought back to Jackson's comments that Isaac came from an abusive home.

"Don't get me wrong, though," Stiles said, putting an arm around the Beta, "I'm glad you're here, sometimes big storms like this scare me a little."

"Really?" Isaac asked, "You don't think that's silly?"

"Nope," Stiles said, "I used to make Jackson come over all the time when my dad was on night shifts."

"I still show up from time to time," Jackson said from the bedroom's open door, "Especially during big storms."

"Sven!" Isaac yelled, clearly excited to see the other Beta.

Stiles snorted as Jackson hopped onto the bed, kicking his pants and shoes off as he made his way to snuggle into Stiles's other side.

"Okay, this is ridiculous," Stiles said, "I'm not running a bed and breakfast here."

"Ohhhhh," Isaac said, drooling onto Stiles's pajama shirt, "I didn't even think about breakfast."

"Don't even bother waking up before 10:30AM," Jackson whispered conspiratorially over Stiles's torso, "His brunch is way better than his first breakfast."

"You do _do_ second breakfast," Isaac said in awe.

"Totally," Jackson said, winking at the other Beta, "It'll be Sunday, too, so you might even convince him to make glazed donuts."

"You can make those?" Isaac said, turning to Stiles with wide eyes.

"Ha, yeah, Isaac," Stiles said, nodding his head, "People can make pretty much any food you can find at the grocery store. That's kind of the point."

"Son of a bitch," Isaac said, narrowing his eyes, "Asshole Uncle Peter told me specifically that Walmart was a necessary evil because of food like glazed donuts. My whole life is a lie."

"It'll be okay," Stiles said, patting the Beta's back, "I'll see what I can do about making you some donuts in the morning."

"Hey, Sven," Isaac said, turning back to the other Beta, "What's your stance on ladies? I think I know a Hale that might want your phone number."

"That is more than slightly terrifying, Isaac," Jackson said, "Please tell me it's not Laura."

"No way!" Isaac said, snorting, "She's hung up on the cute deputy that's been hiding from her, Pear or something."

"Parrish," Jackson and Stiles provided at the same time.

"Yeah, Parrish," Isaac said, nodding.

"That's a little more comforting," Jackson said, "But I'm still not sold. Let's say maybe."

"Speaking of dating, Isaac," Stiles said, "What's up with you and Scott?"

"Scott?!" Jackson asked, "You're dating Scott?"

"Sort of?" Isaac said.

"Hmphf," Jackson said, "Watch your car is all I have to say to that. If he fucks with you, let me know. I will end him."

Stiles is pretty sure he had never seen Isaac look so happy in life.

* * *

Stiles focused on his breathing as he settled into a slow walk on his way back to Forest Preserve Park's car lot. He kept reflecting on his sleepover with Beta Isaac and Jackson last night, and their multiple breakfasts that morning. He hadn't laughed that much in a long time.

As he approached his Jeep, he noticed a familiar looking blonde sitting on the hood of the car, a crowbar in hand.

"Uh… Hello?" Stiles said, "What are you doing on my car?"

"Oh," the blonde said, "Is this your car? I just wanted to make sure."

The blonde lifted the crowbar to smash one of the front headlights.

"Hey!" Stiles yelled, "Crazy lady, what the fuck are you doing?"

"I'm messing with your property," the blonde said, shrugging her shoulders like this was a normal occurrence, "After all, you messed with mine."

"Excuse me?" Stiles asked.

The blonde rolled her eyes and rested the crowbar on her shoulder as she turned to face Stiles.

"Derek Hale," the blonde said, clearly annoyed to provide an explanation.

"Okay…" Stiles said, "What about him?"

"He's mine!" the blonde said, stamping her foot at the end of the sentence.

"Oh," Stiles said, "Are you sure about that? I mean that's cool if that's the case, I just didn't know Alpha Derek was involved with anyone."

"He hasn't even mentioned me?!" Kate shrieked, turning back to the car to raise a crowbar at the driver side window.

"Hey!" a female voice yelled from behind Stiles.

Stiles turned to see Cora Hale and Jackson approaching, both with a light sheen of sweat clinging from what looked like a shared afternoon run.

"Back off, Kate," Cora growled, claws unsheathed.

Jackson growled as he glowed gold eyes back at the blonde.

"Shut the fuck up, Cora. And who's this?" Kate asked, assessing Jackson up and down, "You keeping a collection of mutts or something? One wolf isn't enough? You steal him, too?"

"Hey, lady," Stiles said, "That's specist language, and I haven't stolen anyone."

"Fuck that," Kate said, reaching up to remove her earrings, "I've never let a man leave me for another vagina, I refuse to be left for the pole! Let's get this over now."

"Kate that would hardly be fair," Laura Hale said, approaching from Stiles's right, Jordan Parrish in tow.

Stiles noticed that the pair looked slightly unkempt, and he was pretty sure that was lipstick on Jordan's uniform collar. Apparently the two had worked out their differences long enough to make out in a car at the park.

"What?" Kate asked.

"Fighting Stiles out here in the street," Laura said, "Where you have the home field advantage."

"You bitch!" Kate yelled, lifting her crowbar toward Laura.

"Excuse me, ma'am," Jordan said, stepping between Kate and Laura, lifting his badge, "I think we should continue this conversation down at the police station."

Kate seemed to pause upon seeing Jordan's badge. She looked up slowly.

"You'll never catch me alive!" Kate screamed, throwing the crowbar at Jordan before turning around to run into the park.

"Jesus Christ," Jordan said, running after Kate.

"Get her, baby!" Laura yelled, running after the pair as well.

"I better…" Cora said, nodding toward the group running into the tree line, "See you later Jackson. Stiles."

"What the fuck just happened?" Stiles asked, stepping up to his car to inspect the damage.

"I think this is life with the Hales, Stiles," Jackson said, shaking his head, "It's terrifying, isn't it?"

* * *

Stiles finally made it home after reporting his car damage and providing a statement regarding Kate's involvement to the Beacon Hill's Police Department. He had been slumped against the front door for the better part of the last fifteen minutes, refusing to meet eyes with his father, who was watching from the living room couch.

Just as Stiles was about to make it upstairs to take a shower, the doorbell rang.

"Jesus, Lord, today," Stiles said, turning to open the door.

Alpha Derek Hale stood in front of him.

"Stiles!" Derek said, "I heard that you ran into Kate today, and I wanted to come apologize immediately. I'm _not_ involved with her, and I am so sorry for anything she may have said to you. I know that she did some damage to your car, but I will pay for the repairs – God, you smell good."

"Excuse me?" Stiles asked, stepping back from the door.

"It's just that – I mean… Well," Derek said, "Look, Stiles, I came over here for more than just to apologize about Kate. I had actually been planning all weekend to come over here and ask you out on a proper date – not that our lunches haven't been great, I've really enjoyed them, I just thought that–"

"Alpha Derek," Stiles said, "It's been a long day, and I really need a shower right now. Are you going to tell me what you're trying to say, or are we going to stand here all day?"

Derek squared his shoulders before stepping into the entryway, nodding at the Sheriff on the couch.

"Stiles, I know you didn't like this approach much when we first met, but too many people have been getting in the way here, and I've got some things to say to you, so," Derek said, lifting Stiles up over his shoulder.

"Hey!" Stiles said, wriggling in Derek's grip, "You can't just manhandle me into submission."

"Actually, I can," Derek said over his shoulder, still standing in the entryway, "And I've booked us a week's stay at the bed and breakfast outside of town."

"Dad!" Stiles yelled, "Why are you just watching? Do something!"

"I did, son," his father said, still from the couch, "I ordered a pizza and invited Isaac over for a Law and Order marathon, _after_ I approved your week's vacation and gave Derek my blessing to steal you away."

"What?!" Stiles squawked.

"Stiles, don't shriek like that," his father said, "It's unbecoming, I'm never going to have grandchildren if you keep doing that."

"Sheriff," Derek said, nodding his head at the man as he turned to take Stiles out of the house, headed toward his Chevrolet Camaro.

"Stiles, just give me a minute," Derek said, dropping Stiles down onto the passenger seat and shutting the door, quickly making his way over to the driver side.

"Now listen," Derek said, settled into his seat and facing Stiles, "I'm an unmated twenty-five year old Alpha, I don't smoke, I don't drink much, and I don't do drugs. I've made a few dating mistakes in the past, but I'm looking for something more serious now. I double majored in business management and graphic design at school, and I'm seeking an online graduate program that will help me develop my own branding and web design business. I have one Beta, Isaac Lahey, who is incredibly obnoxious, but sickeningly sweet at the same time. I have two nightmares for sisters, but you've lived through high school with them, so that speaks well for you. My parents already love you, and I think I could, too. I would really like to take you away for a romantic getaway – no expectations or strings attached, just us getting to know one another. I want to know what you're studying in school, how you ended up best friends with a Beta werewolf, what your career aspirations are, and I don't want you to cook a single thing for me while you tell me. What do you say?"

Stiles sat in shock from the overload of information.

"Stiles," Derek said, "Jesus, I'll even book a separate room for myself if that's what you want! Just tell me what you want!"

"I would…" Stiles said, "I think I would like that."

"Like what? Separate rooms?" Derek asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No," Stiles said, chuckling and moving closer to the Alpha, "I just found out that I've got a week's vacation, and there's no one else I'd rather spend it with right now. I'm saying yes – yes, Alpha Derek, I will go out with you."

"Yes!" Derek said, raising his arms in victory.

"On a few conditions!" Stiles said, placing both hands on the side of Derek's face, forcing the Alpha to maintain eye contact.

"Yes," Derek said, "I mean, okay, what conditions?"

"You won't propose on this trip, you won't use the M word, you won't tell me that we're destined because of my scent, or some other soulmate bullshit," Stiles said nodding his head, "And…"

"Yes, okay, yes," Derek said, nodding his head, "And what?"

"You won't leave any hickeys or bite marks where my father can see them once we get back," Stiles whispered into Derek's ear, taking the keys out of Derek's hand and starting the car.

"Fuck," Derek whispered.

"Come on, _Alpha_," Stiles said, settling into the passenger seat, "I still need to take that shower. Maybe you can help with that."

Derek lurched forward to put the car into drive, as Stiles chuckled and focused on the radio.

"Hey," Stiles said, turning back to Derek as the Alpha sped through the neighborhood, "Why does Isaac call me Papa Martha?"

Derek groaned.


End file.
